


In Tandem

by Ludella



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Eventual Happy Ending, Falling In Love, Grief/Mourning, Love/Hate, M/M, Pining, Platonic Soulmates, Resurrection, and caleb hates him, bc he's a dick, caleb loves molly and molly is dead but lucien is alive and is caleb's soulmate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-08-02 04:01:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16297778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ludella/pseuds/Ludella
Summary: Every person has three soulmates, with typically one or two reigning supreme in their hearts. They can feel their hearts beating next to their own, its intensity changing with proximity to each person.Knowing Caleb didn't have a third, primary soulmate, he chose to love Mollymauk on his own volition, fate be damned.And then Molly died. Years later, Caleb feels the heart of another soulmate beating next to his again. The man it belongs to looks like Mollymauk, smells and breathes and dresses like Mollymauk, but goes by another name and lacks the memories of all the time they spent together; Lucien.





	1. First Beat

**Author's Note:**

> i know i started a different caleb/lucien fic and i need to change that but the worst part of me decided adding soulmates makes everything worse.
> 
> caleb has three soulmates; one who died years ago, Nott, and Beau. the latter two are platonic.
> 
> i believe the heartbeat concept is one that's already existed and been around, though I personally haven't read any? but i shoved in the distance and multiple soulmates part since nott and beau are infinitely important to caleb.
> 
> also, there are brief mentions of self harm at the beginning in the non-italicized sections, just as a warning!

_ It’s probably the first time Caleb and Molly have been the only ones sat at the bar together. They lift their drinks at the same time, clink them together, and take a long sip. Tonight’s on Molly, so the tiefling picks out something fancy and sweet that he regularly wouldn’t pay for everyone to just get drunk off of. Caleb usually only resorts to alcohol if he’s trying to erase something or not think as much, but right now, it’s fine to just appreciate a nice drink. He wants to think, right now. He swirls the light amber liquid around in his glass, smiling down at it. _

_ “You’re sure it doesn’t bother you?” Mollymauk asks, and Caleb knows he isn’t referring to the drink. He also isn’t talking about the bar and its calm before the real evening crowd comes in and begins their heavy drinking. He isn’t talking about the rain outside or the cool mid-eve air, either. _

_ This talk, alone at the counter, is the first time they’ve ever directly brought this thing up. They’ve managed to stumble through everything without clear words or outright declarations of their intentions. They speak of this feeling, of what is blooming between them, but not the single thing that they’re missing. They speak of the future, of what it may be like to be together, but not all that could go wrong. It’s impossible and downright foolish to try when their heartbeats are alien to each other’s bodies. _

_ Caleb nods, nursing his drink between his palms. It’s warming his chest and face, enough for him to feel comfortable with smiling and making eye contact with Mollymauk, head still lowered. “Yeah… yeah, it doesn’t. I gave up on those things a long time ago.” _

_ “We aren’t fated, though,” Mollymauk says, his tail flicking behind him. “Anything could go wrong. There’s no saying how any of this will go. It could all be a mistake.” _

_ Caleb knows how Mollymauk feels, and he knows the only reason he brings any of this up is for Caleb’s sake. They’re talking so Caleb can up and leave at any given moment, to confirm their status once and for all. _

_ They aren’t fated. Of the heartbeats Caleb feels pulsing next to his own, none are as near as Mollymauk’s. He knows they aren’t meant to be together, that no gods will bless their union, that they will never feel the natural comfort of a mortal succumbing to the plans of their own spirit. Every step of the way is a choice. Every step is a decision they will make, needing constant reassurance that this is the path they choose to take together. There is no destiny or fate to tell them if they are right. There is no guarantee they will be happy. _

_ Caleb has thought about it all, even years before the two of them met. It has been a long time since he had hope of meeting his destined person and falling into a simple, direct union. _

_ He knew no one was coming to rescue him years ago. _

_ So he nods, and the smile that comes to his face is natural. “I think that will be the fun of it.” _

_ Mollymauk laughs and folds his hand on top of Caleb’s. He cannot feel his heartbeat next to his own, but if he focuses, Caleb can feel the gentle thud of his pulse from his fingers, and that’s enough for now. _

When Mollymauk died, nothing in his physiology changed.

There was no break, no immediate yearn for the partner his body has known long before they met. His heart does not lose its rhythm, unsure of how to beat without another pulse by its side. His head does not ache as its fate is lost.

Nothing in Caleb changes physically, not when nothing had been there to start. His body has never recognized Mollymauk as belonging to him and vice versa, thus it feels no pain or absence at his loss. He feels fine, not acknowledging any difference from mere minutes before when the man was alive and well.

But Caleb feels it elsewhere.

He crumples up, his mind making up for all the pain his body does not feel by losing one he himself has decided is the most important. He curses his body for feeling fine, for its complacency in his mourning as he wills himself to feel pain that might reflect what is tearing holes in his heart. Tears do not naturally well in his eyes until he has dashed his nails across his arms, forehead pressing against his knees. Fire sprouts at his fingertips and sparks across his arms.

_ Feel it, _ he tells himself, nearly ripping his hair from his head.

_ Feel this pain. _

The bitter cold of the snow bites at his legs as he kneels against the ground. The wind whips the skin of his cheeks. It is only the world and its environment that offers him a hand in his desire to mourn, gouging for Caleb every wound that his body will not. Or perhaps it is nature punishing him for trying to indulge in what he cannot have, for working against his body and its natural desires.

Two heartbeats besides his own beat slow and steady by his, and he hates how he is naturally comforted by his proximity to his two other fated ones. His body yearns to be closer to Nott and Beau, his two closest friends that were predetermined for him. As much as he loves them, truly and honestly in spite of their natural connection, he could not wish to be farther and contradict what his physiology asks of him.

Because it never recognized Mollymauk, even now, when it feels as if his heart might rip itself in two. The pain he feels is mental, and others would claim it to be simple placebo that he has wished upon himself. But Caleb remembers their nights together, their words in bright bars, their words in dark inns, and the feeling of being together. He remembers a smile that is now covered in dirt and a gentle, undemanding touch. 

_ Feel it _ , Caleb begs of his body. _ Acknowledge him now, if only for the last time _ .

But the only hurt that comes is the burns on his arms brought from his own fire, his own selfish will to defy fate in this final moment.

His body doesn’t change, but something deep within him does.

* * *

It isn’t the kind of life he ever intended on living. As a child, Caleb had dreams of being successful and powerful, of becoming a great wizard who could protect all those he loved and the weak who needed it. After he grew up, that dream changed into a simple man who was strong enough to not be taken advantage of, who could protect himself above all else. The desire for power remained, but its purpose went off course.

Now, though, any lingering want for strength has faded into the creaky floorboards of his new home. He does not dwell on it, does not dwell on anything that makes him uncomfortable for more than a few seconds. Things are simple now. He is simple now.

The town he is in is not small, but not quite as large as Zadash. Its name is unimportant, its people are unimportant, and best of all, Caleb, too, is unimportant. He fades into the grey, unassuming scene of the city, his home unremarkable, and his life even quieter. The muted colors he has always worn suit this town. His life is without detail nor footnote. People do not ask questions, do not reach out, and everyone minds their own individual business.

Caleb doesn’t think much anymore. After years of his mind running him into the ground, his anxiety and fears taking hold of his life, he decides to forego them both and live… quietly. It’s truly remarkable, really, how simple it is to let go of everything that had once held him back from everything he once wanted in life; he just had to give up everything he wanted, too. Now, he is no longer the prisoner of his fears, of the ghosts that once haunted him. Even if they linger near him still, he doesn’t look past what is immediately in front of his eyes to recognize they exist.

It’s easy this way. It’s safe.

Each morning starts the same as Caleb pulls himself from dreamless slumber and into wakefulness. He counts his heartbeats, feeling relief when he finds two besides his own. He has no reason to linger in bed just as he has no reason not to, so he gets up at his leisure and dresses in whatever is clean. His wardrobe moves in specific cycles, each day of the week coinciding to a specific set of shirt and slacks before they need to be washed. He prepares a bland breakfast of stale bread and dried fruit. He turns the sign on the store to ‘Open,’ and he sits back with the stack of books on his counter. Some days people will come in and read or purchase books. Some days he is all alone. It hardly matters.

Caleb sits and opens his current book to the page he left off on and begins his day, not thinking beyond the words on the page. They are the only enchantment he experiences anymore, the only joy or sadness he feels in this grey, monochrome life.

Perhaps this is never what he wanted, but it is not a bad life to lead.

He feels two heartbeats beside his, both in separate directions and far away from him. Though he should feel anxious by being apart, he takes comfort in knowing the two of them are alive and well. He hasn’t the slightest idea what happened to Nott and Beau since they split up all those years ago. Even though they are apart, he still cares for them, deep down, but he doesn’t pursue those feelings, knowing it may lead to hurt.

It’s safer to stay here, tucked into a corner without anyone or anything that has the chance of doing him wrong.

It’s safe to close shop in the evening, make his mediocre dinner, and sleep.

It’s safe to wake up, get dressed, make breakfast, and open up shop.

It’s safe like this.

So safe that he barely thinks about things like soulmates anymore, that he doesn’t register the ache of lacking a third heartbeat that accompanies his own. The less people he meets, the less that ask him about his fated partners, and the less he must lie to about being without his most important third person. His fated person. The soulmate who was supposed to whisk him away from this madness as a young man, who he gave up on long ago when the absence became too sore in his bones.

Caleb resigns himself to the two destined friends that remain by his heart. Once, he had loved Nott and Beau with everything he was unable to give to a third person. He never showed it to them directly, but he felt for them, nonetheless. He always knew that Beau had all three of hers, and that her most important person was discovered the same time she met Caleb. He knew that Nott lied to him about not having any others for his sake, for his childish, petty pride.

He genuinely hopes they’re happy wherever they are, both comforted by the presence of their other soulmates. He hopes they don’t feel an ache for him as he does for them, though he fights the feeling every day, comforting himself with the grey of his new home.

Turning off his emotions, resigning himself to his loneliness and the knowledge of his two friends’ safety, is the safest way to live. Without any feelings to be hurt, he can feel no pain, and he can survive for as long as the world permits him. His plan is perfect, and Caleb thinks that he could live forever in this safe, unchanging library that has been stuck in time for years.

But it turns out that he must be one of fate’s favorite puppets to manipulate, and the gods must be displeased by his flawless system. One who does not step outside but to pick up groceries, one who does not interact with others, one who does not yearn for more cannot be disappointed or hurt. Caleb only allows himself to feel pride in the fact that he has tricked the world into letting him life quietly in peace, yanking himself from the dangerous tide of fate that captures everyone around him.

It must be that cockiness that forces the gods’ hand to move against him in the only way that can rattle him, trapped in his cage from the inside.

Caleb finishes reading, he closes the shop, he eats, and he sleeps. Although the cycle is not broken, something changes that morning when he wakes. He wakes, he counts his friends’ heartbeats, and feels his own stop at a haunting realization.

He feels Nott in the east, hundreds of miles away. He feels Beau, traveling northward even farther than Nott.

Then he registers a third pulse that is not his own, one that did not exist the day before. And they’re close.

A few days later, he hears the familiar voice of his blue friend in his head through a Message.

_ “We’re coming to visit you, Caleb! The Gentleman has a super important job, and we need your help. This is Jester, by the way, from the Mighty Nein, your friends from four years ago! See--” _

It cuts off, and Caleb does not open the shop, sitting in his room with his head huddled between his knees, his heart uncomfortably full.


	2. Un-Renion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a lot of free time at work and this fic is so easy to just write and write and write so i might have a few already done and i don't want to force myself to wait to post

Every day, Caleb feels it grow closer.

That steady beat, the thumping of some stranger’s heart that he’s never met before, is louder in his ears with each passing day. He tries to remain optimistic, to think the best of this awful situation he’s found himself in. The store is only able to remain open for two days before he gives up and keeps it closed, sitting anxiously in his room with no windows that peer outside at his safely bland town.

Slowly, color seeps back into his home, and Caleb covers everything that begins to glow with memory or nostalgia that he can. He douses himself and his home in soot until his entire house and everything in it are grey as the world outside. But light peeks through. It doesn’t stop that fourth pulse from pounding in his chest.

Caleb breathes heavily, clutching at the spot over his breast where he suddenly feels overwhelmed by so many intruders in his own body. Physiologically, he knows he should feel comforted, and some deep, primal part of him is calmed by the fullness of so many partners. But it has been so long since he’s thought of these things, and longer since he felt them. There is too much occurring inside of him that he does not understand, so much that he cannot avoid it any longer. There is nowhere he can escape to, nothing he can do to remove all these people inside of his heart.

So he does the only thing he can think of, and boards up the entire shop.

Jester sends him daily updates tracking their progress, and he doesn’t know how she’s even found him. They never visited this town together. He’s never spoke of it, especially since he didn’t know it existed until he moved here. Apparently Fjord is coming with her, and strangely enough, he can distinctly feel Nott’s heartbeat grow closer. She isn’t the same distance that Jester claims to be, but he has a feeling she’s making her way to him as well.

It has been a long time since he’s seen any of his friends. Jester’s voice in his head is strangely nostalgic, and he doesn’t realize a part of him missed her voice and little accent until she is speaking to him every day. Each time, she doesn’t say much about whatever mission it is the Gentleman has for them, instead talking about their journey and things they see on the road leading here. As harmless as it is, it terrifies him, and Caleb doesn’t respond to a single one, focusing his efforts instead on acquiring the necessary tools to hide his home from her.

He boards the windows and doors with extra wood lying about in the basement. He removes any trace of his name from everything inside and out, all his personal belongings hidden and far from anywhere they might look. When Jester is in town, he hears her asking to meet up, to respond and tell her where he is. She tries to taunt him with saying that the Gentleman will be upset if he doesn’t comply, but he knows she isn’t too serious. He’d rather fight that man and all his armies than confront whatever it is coming for him now.

In the back of his mind, he acknowledges that foreign heartbeat growing louder and louder. Caleb hides out in his room, never leaving his bed but to eat and go to the bathroom. Jester cannot search for him forever, and he believes that she will eventually give up and leave.

But someone else, someone worse will have a much easier time tracking him down, because as sure as he feels their heartbeat in his chest, he knows they can feel his. It will not be hard to find him, so Caleb begins preparing his second plan; escape. With little belongings that he cares about, Caleb fills his pack with only what is direly essential and readies himself for fleeing at any moment. He can hardly focus on reading to pass the time, too busy worrying for himself and his simple lifestyle that provided him safety these last four years.

_ “Caleb, I know you do not want to talk but please help us!” _ Jester sends him first thing in the morning, and he cowers further beneath his thin blankets.  _ “You do not even have to do anything big, I promise and also I miss you very, very much. Please, please help--” _

He can’t. Caleb couldn’t respond if he even wanted to.

Now two weeks since he felt that first heartbeat, it thunders loudly in his ears like a parasite that has taken its host hostage, closer than ever. Whoever it may be, they’re in this town.

There’s no way he can face them.

Once he’s made his decision, Caleb summons his fae companion to his side, and Frumpkin keeps watch of his back as he assembles his bags and sneaks out the back of the bookstore through the cellar. Maybe he can come back here when this blows over and he has annoyed this new soulmate enough to never need to be chased again. Maybe he’ll just spend his life on the road from here on out, constantly running from that which he doesn’t know. He would do it, even if it means sacrificing this safe, grey life; he can take the grey with him. He can’t do that if he meets this person, though.

With a cloak pulled over his head and Frumpkin disguised as a simple bird flying throughout town keeping lookout, Caleb makes his way discreetly through the city streets. Nobody bothers trying to recognize him or even looks his way, all too occupied in their own business, and that’s why Caleb had loved this place. Nobody knows him, and nobody cares to. He navigates through gnarly, dank streets and alleyways he never traveled through before, never having need to venture far from the bakery by his home.

It doesn't matter where he’s going. It doesn’t matter where he leaves from. He just needs to be out of here.

Thankfully, he can feel that he is running in the opposite direction his cursed soulmate approaches him from. His heart tugs him the other way as much as he resists it, still aching to be near this stranger regardless of his wishes. Caleb picks up his pace, dashing through town and staying close to the shadows. If Jester and Fjord only know that he’s in this town, he’s safe as soon as he’s outside. If it’s just a matter of running whichever way his soulmate is not, he can do it.

He won’t give up on this grey, safe life.

But Frumpkin acts too late, and by the time the bird has flown out in front of him, a pair of bright blue arms are wrapping around his middle and lifting him into the air.

“Caleb!” Jester shouts, her voice much louder now in his ear than when she had cast Message. “There you are, you stinky little man! What are you doing?”

He struggles in her hold, knowing she is far stronger than him. Fjord comes into his line of sight, giving Caleb a look that he can’t understand. It has been a long time since he has seen his friends. It has been just as long a time since he has cared about reading people’s faces for their thoughts. He is not good at it anymore.

“Jester--let me down, please.”

“Not if you’re just going to run away again!”

“We both know I cannot outrun you, it would be pointless,” he says in exasperation, only able to breathe when she eventually puts him back down on his feet. He coughs, his lungs being tested for their resilience after being squeezed so hard.

The two of them haven’t changed that much since they last met. Their clothes are nicer, their equipment more expensive and appearing far less suited to the traveling life they once took together. He doesn’t know where they ended up going when he split from the group, and at this point, he doesn’t know if he should bother asking. Caleb lowers his hood, no longer needing it, and allows the breeze running through the alley to comfort the hot sweat on his face.

“Caleb,” Jester says, smiling bright and cheerfully, “you look so… boring,” she finally says with a slight droop.

He knows he’s changed, and it hasn't been for the better. He rarely shaves, bathes infrequently, and hasn’t bought new clothes in years. Looking nice has never been a priority, and Caleb just shrugs her comment off. “Right, well… you found me,” he says, holding his hands out.

Fjord steps forward. “Caleb, don’t you think we should… talk about that?” he asks, crossing his arms. “Why were you avoiding us like that?”

“Because I do not want to have my life ruined by some elaborate crime scene and the same adventure that I’m trying to avoid?” he asks, and Fjord sighs.

“It isn’t anything like that,” he says. “The Gentleman contacted us out of nowhere asking for a final favor.”

A final favor, huh? He should’ve requested it years ago.

“I’m not going on the road again,” Caleb says firmly in spite of his previous plans of escape. “I refuse to, to put my life on the line fighting monsters and baddies for nothing. Not again, no.”

“That is the good news!” Jester claps her hands together and steps into his space. “You do not have to go anywhere or do anything! See, we’re supposed to be meeting this super important guy here who’s like, a really big deal, and he needs to hide out for a bit. So Mister Gentleman-Dad told us to pick him up here and find him somewhere to stay!”

Caleb furrows his brows in confusion. “You didn’t come because I was here…? Why do you need me, then?”

“Well, he did that tracking thingy with your blood--which he says he’s totally done with when this is over!--and found you’re staying here, so you should help out,” she explains. “And I even said to Fjord, I said ‘if anyone has a dingy inconspicuous place it’s  _ got _ to be Caleb!’ So it’s perfect!”

So even his choice of this small and hidden town would lead to his downfall, too. Perhaps it is the grey that is his undoing, as many others would seek to use it for their own purposes--such as hiding from other criminals.

Caleb takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. This is the biggest disruption he’s had since he left their little group four years ago. As much as he enjoyed his friends, he had never wanted to see them again, quite frankly. “Why did the Gentleman not just contact me directly?” Caleb asks, though the answer doesn’t really matter.

Jester’s face drops, and she meets Fjord’s eye for a second. “Well, Caleb, because me and Fjord live in Zadash now… We tried reaching out to you a few times, but you never returned my Messages years ago.”

It answers the question of what they’ve been doing, and he knows he should feel guilty for just tearing his friends away so abruptly. He hasn’t cared for any of their lives or what they’ve done since they split up, and it would be cruel to act like he does now. Caleb just nods; he always knew the two of them had also been fated. Probably even each other’s most important links.

It’s good they got together. It’s good that they seem to have settled down, that they’re happy.

Jester keeps talking. “You know, when you left, we kept going with everyone for a little while, and when they all left me and Fjord decided to keep the ship and go sailing across the seas together! We even lived in Damali for a while, and got to visit my Mama a ton before we went back to Zadash, and…”

“Jester,” Fjord interrupts, and Caleb watches her eyes grow sadder.

They all know this isn’t the time or place to catch up, and that Caleb wouldn’t even want to.

She smiles bashfully and steps back, giving Caleb his own space. “Please, Caleb,” she says, voice light and quieter, “it will not be for a very long time. You do not even have to buy food for him or take care of him or anything, he just needs a place to stay with somebody who is in contact with the Gentleman… that is all.”

It is a lot more than that, and they know it. Whoever this person is needs to hide for a reason, and it’s likely because they’re being hunted. As much as this person wants to hide, someone else wants to find them. It’s a large risk to take, one that Caleb doesn’t know if it’s worth taking.

But something tells him there isn’t a way out of this, either. He remembers the Gentleman, as distant as the memory is, and he knows there isn’t any refusing of a favor as big as this. Even though he hasn’t been contacted in years, the prospect of this being the last time he receives a surprise like this is appealing.

Caleb needs only to cut off any remaining ties that try and intrude on his serenely dull life.

“How long?” he asks.

“A month, maybe not even that long,” Fjord says.

A month is a very long time for someone who has to relearn how to count days.

But there is no other choice. With a resigned, exasperated sigh, Caleb nods and lowers his head. “Right… ja, I guess I can’t say no, can I. I’ll do it, but only for a month.”

“Caleb!” Jester cheers, immediately lighting up. She claps her hands and approaches him for a hug, stopping before she does and just picking up his hand to hold in hers instead. “Thank you so much! You’re the best of the best, really!”

“Not really, no, thank you,” he says while trying to gently pry himself away from her. “I take it this is to be done immediately, right? They are already in town?”

“We’re supposed to meet him today at sundown just outside the city. We know as much about the guy as you do, now,” Fjord says.

Caleb looks to the sky; it will be setting soon. He’s thankful to not have to spend anymore time with his beloved friends than he has to. “Right, then let’s be on our way. Nott will be here any day, now.”

From the confused looks he gets from both Jester and Fjord, Caleb immediately understands the two events are not related. “I haven’t heard anything from Nott in a while,” Jester says, “I don’t think the Gentleman told her anything about this?”

Fjord huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “Looks like you’ve got another visitor coming just for you, Caleb. Aren’t you lucky?”

Not at all, he wants to say, but doesn’t. It would probably surprise them to hear he has interacted with Nott very little since he left all those years ago, so he avoids the conversation. The less they talk, the less they become invested in each other now, the better. He doesn’t want to feel saddened when they leave.

They make their way to the designated drop-off point, and Caleb lingers behind them the entire time. The two of them have their own conversation making fun of townsfolk and the city itself while bringing up some of their own individual adventures. They don’t leave each other’s side, and Jester hangs all over Fjord’s shoulder now that they’re finally together. Caleb knows Fjord was very similar to him, resisting his fated connections the same way.

Which brings up another, more important problem that Caleb cannot voice. As he wanders through the town, he lifts his hood back up and keeps Frumpkin on the lookout around them.

That third soulmate is still here.

What’s worse is that as they continue weaving a specific path through buildings and towards the city bounds, their heartbeat is only growing louder in his chest. Caleb can feel a thick layer of sweat coating his entire body, the magic he never used anymore tingling anxiously at his fingertips. With every step, the pulse grows louder, filling his ears until it is all he can hear. After not being near his soulmates for so long, having grown used to their dull beat from hundreds of miles away, being so close is  _ deafening _ .

Caleb isn’t an idiot, as much as he wishes he was right now. Jester and Fjord coming to see him, and this mysterious soulmate of his… It was naive to think the universe would throw him two unrelated events like this on pure coincidence.

“We’re almost there,” Jester says, and Caleb wishes he could run far away. But as he said before, they all know Jester would catch him quickly.

He should have run faster. He should’ve assembled a spell to avoid them so he could escape the city and be free. Right now, he could be on the road, free and far away. Even if it’s a lie he’s using to convince himself he could’ve avoided this, Caleb takes what time he can to indulge in it before his grey life comes to an end.

As they round the last corner, they stop. There are two people waiting outside a discreet hole in the wall surrounding the town. Jester guides them through it until they’re standing on the outside in front of the two mysterious, hooded figures.

In lieu of any subtle codeword or response, Jester comes right out with it. “It’s us!” she says brightly. “You guys need help from the Gentleman, right?”

The voice that comes from one of them first is familiar, though Caleb cannot recall who until they remove their hood. At the sight of Cree’s dark fur, he feels more uneasy than before, if possible. The heartbeat by his side is unmistakable now. “Well, check out these familiar faces!” she says, and Jester ‘ooh’s in recognition. She probably doesn’t recall who she is exactly--or maybe she does, given she lives in Zadash now. Caleb really doesn’t know anything. “I’ll be leaving as soon as we’re done with introductions, but I don’t think that’ll take  _ too _ long,” she says with a mischievous grin, looking to her partner.

Caleb doesn’t like the familiarity in her voice. He doesn’t like these implications, this mystery or air of playfulness that could be avoided if this were purely professional work. With every passing moment, this only gets worse, and the moment he catches sight of the mystery man’s purple hand lifting slowly to lower his hood, he feels his heart stop.

But the other heartbeat, the pulse of the very man in front of him, continues to disturb his own.

Jester and Fjord both gasp as the black fabric drops.

The anxiety, the fear, the mood he was in and everything leading up until now, drop as well.

Caleb stares in shock, mouth fallen open at the man in front of him, the man he knows all too well.

“Mollymauk,” he whispers, and the tiefling smiles at him. His eyes don’t look anywhere else but Caleb’s face.

There is no mistaking the man that stands before him. Caleb has known him long, has studied his face and come to learn every inch of his mind and body. He could pick him out from a crowd easily, could describe him and every facet of his appearance for hours, detail by detail. His visage has haunted him for years, and though he closed out the memory of he who hurt him the most, seeing him again now feels… natural. It’s as if nothing has changed, as if he had simply risen from the ground they buried him in and walked directly here.

Walked here to Caleb--his soulmate. Caleb feels it deep in his chest, the beat of a heart he spent many nights trying to memorize so he might never forget the feeling of being together for as long as it might last. They were never fated, and they resigned themselves to however long they had together. Now, for the first time, that third heartbeat has returned to its home in Caleb’s chest, the one thing he had wished for, had begged for the gods to fix many nights laying in bed together in the silence of the night as Mollymauk slept. Perhaps it was true. Perhaps it had been a mistake, and after all this time, the gods have finally granted him forgiveness and delivered him this gift.

Two facts register in Caleb’s head, unable to think of anything besides them on repeat.

The man standing before him is his soulmate.

The man standing before him is Mollymauk.

Mollymauk steps forward, naturally taking Caleb’s hand in his and bending at the waist to kiss the back of it. His touch is warm and familiar, as long as it has been, and Caleb would melt at the contact if he weren’t frozen in place. When Molly looks back up, Caleb gets the first impression that something may be wrong.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, my dear,” he says and, did Mollymauk always have that accent? He stands straight, not letting go of Caleb’s hand as he speaks. “Allow me to introduce myself--I am Lucien Mardun, leader of the great Tomb Takers. I’ll be under your expert care.”

Instantly, Caleb pulls his hand back from his, as if burnt.

Jester and Fjord watch him, shock clear on both of their faces, and Jester covers her mouth with both hands as she comes to the same realization. Fjord hangs his head.

“...what?” Caleb asks, voice hardly audible.

The tiefling laughs and holds his arms out, presenting himself with pride. “What a lovely coincidence, is it not? That the man who would help me in my quest, as small a role it may be, would turn out to be the soulmate I have been waiting all these years to meet. We truly  _ are _ fated, aren’t we?” he says, and Caleb feels ice shoot through his veins.

His smile is different

His eyes are different.

His posture, his voice, his attitude and demeanor are all wrong, wrong, wrong.

All the horrid feelings, the fear and anxiety and disappointment and sadness and anger that Caleb has tried so hard to cut from his life entirely are suddenly reintroduced all at the same time. His eyes, only able to see grey for so long, are exposed to color for the first time in four years, and he steps back in horror at the overwhelming sensation.

Sensing that something is wrong, the man takes another step forward, and Caleb snaps. “Don’t touch me,” he hisses.

Lucien doesn’t stop smiling.

Mollymauk’s face, vivid and as clear in his mind as the day he lost him, gradually begins to blur.


	3. Nightmare Walking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that for some reason this fic was tagged as caduceus/caleb instead of lucien??? that is not the case at all

Caleb runs.

It’s the only thing he knows how to do, and this time he isn’t stopped by the knowledge that he will definitely be caught. No one tries to capture him, though, just following right behind him while trying to speak sense into the man.

“Caleb, please!” Jester shouts.

“Are you sure this is the best idea?” Cree asks.

“What ever is going on?” Lucien says.

Only Fjord remains quiet, and remarkably, catches up with Caleb at the same time Jester does. He stops the human in his tracks, rounding him into his chest as Jester stands between them and the other two giving them chase. Fjord tries to find his words as Lucien props his hands up on his hips, Cree giving them a rude eye. “We just need…”

“...a few minutes to talk!” Jester finishes for him, and with little else to be said, they turn and dash into a nearby alleyway. It’s close enough that Lucien and Cree can look down and see them, but far enough to not be heard. “I’m not going to do this, I cannot do this,” Caleb says immediately and it’s only Jester’s hand holding tightly onto his arm that keeps him from darting out the back of the alley.

Admittedly, some part of Caleb had actually been relieved when the man’s hood was dropped. For the first time since Mollymauk’s death, he felt something like hope, some kind of relief that everything had all come around in the end in ways he couldn’t even imagine praying for. So many nights Caleb had stayed up trying to will himself into lucid dreams where he might see Mollymauk’s face one last time.

There was so much he had left unsaid, and so much more he wanted to expand upon from words they had already exchanged. They had spoken of the future, of a world they could explore together, and Caleb wanted to see it. They spent as many a night together as they could, wrapped up in each other as Mollymauk hummed simple tunes that rumbled through his chest as Caleb lay his head on his shoulder. He had taken every gentle touch for granted. He had taken every word, every moment of eye contact and smile and the mere  _ sight _ of Mollymauk alive and breathing for granted.

He wanted it all, wished for just one more minute together and prayed to gods he wasn’t sure would ever hear him again after all he had done to go against their wishes. But Caleb had still hoped, still prayed and wished and tried to do anything he could just to be on the receiving end of one more smile. The moment he gave up was the moment he left the Mighty Nein, two years after Mollymauk’s death, and he carried on in the bottomless grey for four years since then.

Six years he has gone without seeing the face of the beloved he had chosen by hand, who he single handedly delivered his heart to with fear and faith for their uncertain future.

To see him again is a miracle, and it took only a few seconds for that as well to turn into a curse. Somehow, the gods could turn even a simple wish to see his lover’s smile one last time into a hex. Even this simple wish, this simple pleasure he asked nothing more of, could not be allowed to rest dormant in his heart.

Caleb shakes his head furiously, trying to turn away from the man at the end of the alley staring straight at him in bewildered confusion.

If it were a mere similarity in appearance, he would be simply unnerved, and drink his features away in alcohol come nighttime.

If it were a relative or some coincidence, he would say nothing of his past and bottle it deep within himself.

If it were a joke, Caleb would curse and move on.

He only knows it is true from the look on Fjord and Jester’s faces, from the presence of Cree, and the familiar name used to address a dead man sleeping within his unfated lover’s body.

Fjord says something to Jester and she lets go of Caleb, walking back to where the other two are waiting and leaving them alone. She speaks to Lucien and Cree with animated gestures, and he tries not to think about what she must be saying. Caleb doesn’t run even though he has his freedom, his hand clamped over his mouth as he focuses all his efforts on not being sick.

“Caleb,” Fjord says quietly, “listen, I… we had no idea this was happening, we would’ve never… This would have never happened.”

“It is a little too late for that, Fjord, because he is here now, and…”

No, he cannot say more. He can’t bear to, unsure of his own thoughts and what might spill from his mouth.

“Look, we’ll take care of this, we’ll… We’ll find someone else to do this,” Fjord decides. Caleb can’t believe that Fjord knows the entire scope of the situation, probably unaware of how wrong Lucien’s existence is, given the fourth heart beating in Caleb’s chest. But he is trying anyways. “We’ll look around town and ask for help and find someone else--”

A third voice chimes in. “Maybe before all of this, but I cannot agree now.”

They both look to the side as the purple tiefling stalks through the alleyway, his arms crossed as Jester tries to stand between him and Caleb, obviously flustered. As soon as their eyes meet, Caleb turns away, nearly dry heaving.

Lucien continues to speak. “If I am to stay here and take cover in this town, I should like to do so with the soulmate I’ve spent my entire life waiting to meet. To not would be  _ silly _ .”

Jester tries to cut in. “Like I said--”

“Right, we were lovers once, is it?” Lucien asks, and Caleb freezes. Slowly, he turns to look at him, eyes wide in horror that reflects similarly on Fjord and Jester’s faces. Lucien grins and holds both his arms out. “This should be the best news you’ve ever received, darling, because I’m back.”

“Mollymauk,” Caleb says. He has to lean against the cold stone of some building behind him to remain upright, and Fjord remains by his side just in case.

It makes Lucien’s brow raise, but the smirk doesn’t leave his face.

“What does… it mean to you,” Caleb asks. “What is your relationship to Mollymauk?”

“I’ve heard a bit about it from both Cree and that Gentleman fellow,” Lucien says. “I’d be more than happy to tell you all about it--over some tea at yours, if you would be so kind.”

Once again, Jester steps in, holding her arms out defensively in front of Caleb. “No way, you better talk right now while we’re all here, and--”

“Jester.”

She turns back to look at Caleb, seemingly surprised he said anything to stop her when she was trying to protect him.

It isn’t a good feeling that’s settled in the pit of his stomach, hasn’t been for a long time, but Caleb can’t pretend like he can go back now. It’s impossible to unburn a house just as it is to unbreak a heart, and though it sounds so appealing to have his friends cover for him while he runs far, far away… he knows he can’t.

He still remembers a tiefling’s bright smile in his mind, a hand reaching out to take his. If there’s one reason he goes through with this, it’s only for the sake of one who died years ago--who stands before him now.

Caleb slowly walks forward until he’s facing the man directly, trying to stand as tall as he can. “We can talk. But I… I am not saying you can hide out here just yet.”

Even without fully understanding the situation, Fjord speaks up behind him. “You don’t have to give this guy any of your time.”

“I’m  _ right here _ , thank you,” Lucien says, and Caleb just shakes his head and walks past him.

“This way--Fjord, Jester, I’ll see you later.”

He doesn’t bother to look back and see who all follows him, just retracing his steps back through the streets he came by. At least one pair of footsteps follow him, and from the close proximity of the pulse in his chest, he knows Lucien walks close by his back. His stomach churns at the immediate relief he feels, as if his body is trying to force him into complacency.

As much as he is going through with this for Mollymauk’s memory, he won’t allow himself to simply roll over and take anything this mystery man may have planned for him.

As it turns out, Jester, Fjord, and Cree don’t follow, and he receives a Message from Jester telling him they will be in an inn and to contact her if anything goes wrong. It’s one of the first times he has actually felt comforted by Jester’s promises, and he responds with a simple thanks as they reach his home.

All the windows and doors remain boarded up besides the cellar they enter through, and Lucien makes some snarky remark about the place that Caleb ignores. He guides him through the basement and back up into the store where everything is the same as he left it. It feels different now. He watches Lucien appear from the stairway, bright purples cast across his monochrome home. Only now does Caleb realize he cannot find Mollymauk’s red coat on him, covered up by a black cloak. Lucien’s eyes wander about the bookstore, and without asking, he makes himself at home on one of the few plush armchairs in the middle of the main room.

“Quite a dreary place, isn’t it?” he says, and Caleb sits across from him in an opposite seat separated by a table.

“Mollymauk,” Caleb repeats himself. He isn’t in the mood for small talk right now, and he can see the fact register on Lucien’s face.

The tiefling crosses his legs and smiles. “Right, yes… That is the name I went by after waking from my rest, yes? I didn’t have any memories of the Tomb Takers or my past or anything,” he explains simply with a certain disconnect from his words. “Then, two years later, I was put back in the ground, and when I rose this time, I was back to normal!”

“Normal?” Caleb asks with narrowed eyes.

Lucien nods. “All my memories and motives back in place, yes. Although I don’t remember anything from those two years before, Cree told me there was nothing important that I should worry about--”

Before he can help himself, Caleb slams his hand down on the table between them.

“It was important,” he says through gritted teeth.

But Lucien’s expression doesn’t change. “Were we close, back then?” he asks simply. “I know how exciting it must have been, my dear, but I am back now, and even better!”

Caleb meets his eye. The words spill directly from his mouth now, no need for filter as his thoughts flow off his tongue. “What do you mean  _ better _ ?”

Lucien scoffs and gives him an incredulous look. He leans back in his seat, arms crossed behind his head as if the entire area belonged to him the minute he sat down. “Because I’m  _ me _ again, darling. I don’t know what I did during those two years, but without any memory, I must have been not even half the man I truly am. Although I am glad we seem to have been close--”

“Mollymauk was no half a man!” Caleb shouts and stands right back to his feet to look down on him. His hands are already growing warm from the furious fire that begs to spurt from his fingers.

And Lucien looks on, unchanged.

It only makes Caleb angrier. “You two are different, you are… you are not  _ him _ .”

“We are quite literally the same person. I don’t know why it makes you upset that you have been reunited with who I assume was your lover, now.”

Because it is no reunion.

Even with all the familiar gaudiness and slight arrogance the man carries, there is something about him, some air of… danger, an unworldly quality that separates them. Mollymauk would never have spoken to him like this, demanding his approval as if it were natural. He was pompous and an ass, and he had an air of royalty to him but it was never… serious. Mollymauk’s arrogance had been acceptable because there was nothing to him, because it was born from nothing but his own person without any skill or status to his name.

“You… you aren’t the same,” Caleb says with a sense of finality.

Lucien quirks his brow. Throughout this entire conversation, his pulse hasn’t wavered once, but he must be able to feel how Caleb’s heart is thundering in his chest.

“Mollymauk and I were… we were never soulmates.”

For the first time, Lucien seems caught off guard by his words.

His heart slows as Caleb’s picks up. In the back of his mind, he can still feel Nott and Beau in his chest, and he tries to focus on the two of them to keep calm, as far away as they are.

“So I lost even that, huh?” Lucien asks. He stands from his seat and comes to where Caleb is standing, easing him back into his chair by his shoulders. Caleb watches with wide, fearful eyes like a frightened animal as Lucien kneels by his side and places a hand over Caleb’s knee.

He grins up at Caleb in what he thinks must be a sincere smile. Or at least as sincere as this man can get.

“I remember how it was before,” he begins, “when we lived our entire lives apart, but I could still feel you inside of me.”

Caleb’s heart stops.

“I thought we would never meet, so far away. And then one day, eight years ago--”

No, he doesn’t want to talk about this. For thirty years Caleb had spent his life alone, wondering who his soulmates might be, wondering why they had never come to see him and rescue him. He’d dreamed of meeting the loudest, most prominent pulse in his chest, wishing they would come and save him from his parents, his teacher, the facility he’s trapped in. Neither of the other two soulmates came to see him either, but for some reason, he was invested in the third, the loudest.

And one day, Caleb didn’t feel their pulse anymore.

It never came back, not until now.

“But you understand, and now? We’re finally together.”

“I don’t know you.”

Lucien huffs out a small laugh and tilts his head. “What does that matter? We are soulmates, the gods have already blessed our union--”

“Mollymauk and I chose to be together even though we weren’t fated,” Caleb snaps, cutting him off. “We… we made that decision together, to, to continue together, even though…”

“I understand, truly, I do,” Lucien says. Caleb stares at him in confusion, his words contradicting, as Lucien reaches out to grab one of his hands. “Your body must have known, deep down, that we were fated and guided you to me.”

No.

“We weren’t fated when I was Mollymauk because I didn’t have my memories, because I wasn’t myself. But the gods knew we were meant to be together and brought us to each other.”

No.

“Everything is fine, now, believe me. It just goes to show how strong the bonds of soulmates are, does it not? That you would even come to love my poor, incomplete self until I return--”

Caleb can’t help himself any longer.

He punches him.

It’s the fire spread across his knuckles that deliver most of the impact, sending Lucien sprawling to the floor in front of him. He knocks into the table and groans with a hand on his face. Lucien doesn’t try to get up immediately, the damage more than either of them expected. It’s the first thing to truly wipe that horrid arrogance completely from his face, and Caleb takes pride in that. Caleb stands from his chair and steps over his injured form on the floor.

“I wish you had stayed in the ground,” he says, and turns to march out of the room.

For years, Caleb did not think about Mollymauk or their relationship, afraid of the pain it might bring up after losing him. He thought the worst thing that could happen was to never see him again, but the world had a way of surprising him every time.

Caleb doesn’t come downstairs for the rest of the night, huddling in his room by himself and sitting near the boarded window by his bed. As much as he hates it, he can still feel Lucien even now, still in his home, just downstairs where he had been left. But he cannot go down to see him and kick him out now, not when he feels he might be sick from the few interactions they have had.

Instead, he lays beneath his blankets, curls up into a ball, and does something he hasn’t done in four years; remember.

_ “What is the meaning of these?” Caleb says as he enters Mollymauk’s bedroom. The tiefling is sat on the floor with his swords out in front of him, and he smiles innocently as soon as he looks up. A decently sized stack of tomes is balanced in Caleb’s arms. _

_ “My, I’ve no idea what you mean. I don’t have the slightest clue where those came from--are they good, though?” he asks, batting his lashes. _

_ Caleb rolls his eyes and can’t help but smile as he closes the door behind him with his foot and enters the room. He stops at Molly’s bed and carefully lays them all out to show just how many there truly are. “A dozen tomes have been slowly accumulating in my belongings over the last week with no damage being done to my wallet, and Nott claims they are not her doing…” _

_ Mollymauk folds his swords back up in delicate cloth and pushes them beneath his bed as he stands. “What a mystery indeed! And what will you do when you catch this nefarious gift-giver?” _

_ “Tell him to stop spending all of his individual pay on such frivolous things.” _

_ “What is frivolous about these?” Mollymauk asks as he leans over to pick a random one up. “‘Prestidigitation in the Founding of the Dwendalian Empire’... it sounds fascinating to me, personally.” _

_ Caleb chuckles and snatches the book from his hands. He starts to pick them back up and lays them neatly by the bedside where Mollymauk had tucked his swords away. “It  _ is  _ a fascinating read, but I cannot keep accepting all these gifts, Molly. The cost for all of these is--” _

_ “Irrelevant,” Mollymauk interrupts. He steps into Caleb’s space, his fingertips falling on Caleb’s elbows and gently trailing down to his wrists. Caleb’s the one who links their fingers together. “I’ll have you know I bought things for myself, as well.” _

_ “I can hardly imagine it’s equal in value,” Caleb wonders aloud as he lets go of one of Molly’s hands to run his fingers over the new piece of gold lining the tiefling’s ear. A single sapphire is encrusted at the end where his other piercings pick up, and Mollymauk leans into the touch. Caleb’s fingers naturally continue their path down his ear and to the side of his jaw. _

_ “Perhaps, but it is all I wanted. I am content with my current possessions, but there is much more I would like to give to you.” _

_ “You are too generous.” _

_ “I try.” _

_ Caleb’s fingers move back along his neck, tangling in the hair that falls in short curls at the back of his head. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. The books are fascinating.” _

_ Mollymauk’s face lights up, and he lifts one hand to cup Caleb’s cheek as he leans in for a simple kiss. The motion has become as easy as breathing, come and practiced again and again. Caleb is more than happy to lean against him, to let all of the stress of the day melt away in an instant. Funny how just one touch can do that to him, even if they aren’t fated. _

_ He catches Mollymauk smiling at him when they pull away, and it rubs off onto him. “I didn’t just come here to thank you, you know,” he says, and Mollymauk quirks a curious brow. _

_ “I figured we would get to that later tonight.” _

_ “No,” Caleb scoffs, patting at his face jokingly as he pulls away from the tiefling long enough to go through his pockets. He retrieves a dark, wooden box that is just smaller than the palm of his hand. When Caleb holds it out to him, Mollymauk takes it and turns it over in his hands curiously. _

_ “What is it?” he asks, examining it every which way until he finds a small lever on the back. Caleb nods in approval when he looks to him, and Mollymauk begins to turn the small crank in the direction that has the most resistance and clicks with every rotation. Once it can go no further, he holds it out in his hand again and watches carefully. _

_ It doesn’t take very long to begin. With a slow start, small chimes begin to pour out of the box, growing more confident as a full song is gradually sung. It isn’t very long, and loops at about fifteen seconds, but Caleb watches in delight as Mollymauk appears genuinely awestruck. He takes a hold of the lid of the dark box, sliding off the top square panel to reveal the mechanics of the music box inside. _

_ “It’s that song you’re always humming,” Caleb explains. “I don’t know the name, so I had to just write it down by ear for the merchant and have it customized.” _

_ “Humming?” Mollymauk asks, and Caleb nods. _

_ “Whenever we sleep you start; do you not notice your own voice?” _

_ Mollymauk chuckles. “I suppose I must be more tired during the nighttime than I thought. This is… beautiful, Caleb.” _

_ He beams at the praise. It might not cost enough to make up for all of the books Molly bought him, but there is a lot of thought put into the trinket. He watches Molly already begin to rewind the box, smiling down at the song restarts again. “I’m glad you like it.” _

_ “I love it. I… well, I suppose I must not have told you about this song yet, have I?” _

_ Caleb shakes his head, and Molly guides them both to sit on the bed, legs pressed together. _

_ “It is one of the first things I was taught in the circus when I woke up. Yasha and I got along immediately, even though I was unable to speak or do anything, really. For as much as I couldn’t do, I found myself afraid and unsure, it… It is a scary world to wake up in, without anybody.” _

_ Caleb doesn’t interrupt him, and he simply nods along. It is hard to imagine what he’s gone through, having only been alive for two years. He’s grown a great deal in such a short amount of time. _

_ Mollymauk continues. “In those times, Yasha would… comfort me. This is the same song that she would hum for me--or at least, I believe it was for me. She would simply sit in the same carriage or tent that I was in, polishing her weapon while humming. Naturally, I grew attached to it. And to her.” _

_ “I had no idea she was that… maternal?” Caleb says for lack of a better word. _

_ Mollymauk laughs. “She is a sweetheart, truly, I would be lost without her. And this,” he lifts the music box, “is… it’s great, really. Thank you, Caleb.” _

_ “Of course, it is hardly anything in comparison to what you have gotten me.” _

_ “It isn’t about money and you know it.” _

_ Without much else to be said, Mollymauk takes Caleb’s face in his hands and invites him into another, slower kiss. Caleb practically melts into his touch, his own hands finding one of Molly’s hips and the back of his neck. Like this, when the others are gone, when there is no rush for adventure of pressing dangers, it’s easy to let the world fade into the background. They can take their time and indulge in each other, as if nothing outside these four walls could possibly matter. As if they each only have their own hearts beating in their chest, and things like fate have no weight in the world. _

_ Caleb leans his head into the crook of Molly’s neck when they pull away, too comfortable to separate just yet. Mollymauk merely chuckles and repositions them to lean up against the wall on the bed with his cheek resting on top of Caleb’s head. With his ear pressed to Mollymauk’s chest, Caleb can hear his heartbeat, closer and louder than his own as the music box continues to sing in the background. _

_ After a few seconds of silence, Mollymauk begins to hum, picking up the same place as the music box on the simple tune. His hand rubs gentle patterns into Caleb’s back, and he practically purrs at the touch. He isn’t sure which of them falls asleep first, as if it matters. _

Caleb doesn’t wake to a good mood. He feels groggy and more exhausted than ever, hardly able to pull himself from his comforting dreams that tried to restore his spirit during the night. As sweet as they are, they leave his chest sore, and he pulls himself from bed to resist the temptation to indulge in the past for longer than he should.

It’s hard to focus on dressing or even eating when he is constantly distracted by the loud thumping of Lucien’s heart downstairs. He spends as much time as he can in his room organizing his things, removing the wood from his windows, and making his bed for the first time in years. It’s all he can do to avoid contact with the man, and when he does have to finally go downstairs, he holds his breath.

Sure enough, Lucien is still asleep, sprawled out over an old, tattered sofa hidden in the back of the library between two unlit lamps on side tables. He sleeps with his hands crossed over his stomach, ankles crossed, and his face peaceful. Like this, Caleb could almost believe that it is simply Mollymauk who has finally returned and roosted in his dank little bookstore.

But their conversations from the day previous haunt him. Without any memories of the time they spent together, as Mollymauk, Lucien has nothing that Caleb wants. If Mollymauk had vehemently denied the idea of learning his past, and his lack of memories is what made him separate from the man who was buried in the ground, then the reverse applies; Lucien cannot be Mollymauk. They are two separate people, as similar as they appear. But even that doesn’t sit right in his stomach.

Caleb turns his back on the tiefling and begins walking to the front of the store to begin undoing all the barricading he’d built in the last few days. He’s stopped by a familiar sound, though, his feet freezing in place as a gentle, quiet noise, almost unable to be heard, flows from behind him.

He looks over his shoulder to find Lucien still asleep, eyes closed and relaxed. But his chest moves with the small tune that sneaks between his lips in a sleepy, gentle hum.

The song last only a few moments before it stops, his breathing returned to normal, his sleep undisturbed.

Caleb should unboard the windows. He should clean the store and reopen it, begin returning to his normal life that he can no longer avoid. He should wake Lucien and talk again, decide what they’re going to do, and kick the man out as quickly as possible. 

But just for a minute, Caleb lets the clock stop instead. He stands in the middle of his dark, decrepit store, the light inside from his own room sneaking downstairs to follow him. He can make out Lucien’s face in the light that peers through the boards covering the windows. Lucien doesn’t wear the same coat as Mollymauk, tucked instead in the black cloak he came into town with. His shoes have higher heels now. His jewelry is gaudier, but not too different. His tattoos haven’t changed.

For just a minute, Caleb lets himself watch the tiefling sleep, pretending the circumstances are different, pretending everything up until now had been different, and that the sight of Mollymauk asleep in his home is not so strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot written for this and it's really hard not to just post all at once or update every day.


	4. Cupid

_ It isn’t that they’re trying to hide anything--well, maybe Molly isn’t. Caleb, on the other hand, would prefer not to be seen by their overdramatic companions who would certainly make an ordeal out of any small thing. Once, he had accidentally brushed the back of Fjord’s hand, and Beau made a commotion for hours. The concept of romance alone isn’t that comfortable a topic, given that everyone knows Caleb only has two soulmates and they’re both walking among them. For him to grow close--even closer--with a third person… would turn heads. _

_ Mollymauk, who has never cared for any of the history or social taboos of soulmates as he has none, respects his wishes and tries to be discreet. ‘Try’ being the keyword, as nothing about a bejewelled purple tiefling could ever be discreet. Caleb thinks they’re fine today, as everyone has split up and Nott skipped away with Jester to go searching for jewelry for one of the cleric’s spells while the others went off on their own. It’s Molly who suggests they not just hide out in the inn and go outside, actually enjoy the day in the open for once. _

_ He has a way of convincing Caleb to do things he would never consider otherwise. Caleb agrees, and they hit the town by themselves, simply meandering until they find some place worth stopping at. Caleb brings them to bookstores, and Mollymauk stops at only the weirdest, dilapidated establishments. It’s easy to avoid being seen when their friends are out and about in two groups, one with Beau and one with Nott, so they are easy to track by the pulses in his chest. Whenever it feels like they’re getting too close, Caleb tugs Molly by his hand down a different street, and the tiefling simply smiles after him and complies. _

_ It’s a good day, good enough that they don’t return until sundown when Nott and Beau’s pulses beat from the same location. By the time they enter the inn, Caleb has collected an entire satchel’s worth of new books while Molly pockets a few flowers he’d bought from a young girl to give to Yasha. Their friends don’t think anything of seeing them enter the inn together, just asking where they had been and so on. They don’t have to know how long they had been out together, or how they had held hands the entire time. Mollymauk sits on the opposite side of the table to ease suspicion, but Caleb has a feeling it’s primarily so that they can continue meeting each other’s eye over dinner. _

_ Part of him feels guilty for keeping secrets from their friends, including his two soulmates, but another part of him is having fun, the kind of fun he feels is only suited for young children sneaking their first lovers by their parents. It is not too different, honestly. _

_ As everyone parts for the night and makes their way back upstairs, Caleb takes his time collecting the books he bought into his arms. By the time he’s settled and looks back up, he finds that everyone has left besides Jester. He can still hear Fjord talking about someone they’d met while out today as Jester leers at him, leaning across the table with a devilish grin. _

_ “You like him, don’t you?” _

_ Caleb sighs. “Jester, for the last time I didn’t mean to touch Fjord’s hand, and it was weeks ago--” _

_ “No! Not Fjord!” she says, looking back up the stairs to make sure everyone is gone before she swings back to Caleb. She props her chin up in both hands as her tail flicks back and forth behind her. “You like  _ Molly _.” _

_ Caleb feels his face instantly grow hot, completely caught off guard by the statement. She isn’t wrong, but he thought they had been doing such a good job of hiding it! “That is… equally preposterous, Jester, you know I only have Beau and Nott.” _

_ “And yet you two are still making googly eyes at each other all night,” she says with a giggle. “Don’t worry, I will not tell anyone as long as you tell me it is true.” _

_ Caleb sighs and sinks back down into his seat. “...you swear?” _

_ She lights up immediately, standing as soon as he sits and slamming her hands on the table. “You two  _ are _ fucking, then!” _

_ “You do not have to say it so crassly--and quiet down!” She giggles sweetly as she comes around the table to sit directly next to Caleb, practically buzzing with excitement. “Yes, we are… together, but it is delicate, you know? Because of our… fates.” _

_ “Caleb, you know I don’t give a shit about that. Fjord hasn’t even realized he and I are meant to be together romantically forever and ever and we  _ are  _ fated, who cares if you two  _ aren’t _? My mama and dad weren’t, and they loved each other very much!” _

_ “They are not quite together now though, are they?” _

_ “Maybe not… but I’m sure he had a very good reason for leaving her! Sometimes it isn’t the right time, or the right place, or anything like that--and maybe that is why they were not fated, either,” she says brightly, unaffected by the many facets of this issue that have been plaguing Caleb since they first came together weeks ago. “Does it bother you?” _

_ “More than it should, I think. We have not… talked about it.” _

_ “And you two still seem happy right now, so who cares!” she says with an exaggerated shrug. “Just be happy for right now, there are plenty of people who hang out and live together without being fated! People have more than just three--or, well, two in your case--people in their lives!” _

_ Caleb never thought that he would be receiving genuine advice from Jester of all people. Perhaps it should’ve been obvious that she knows the most about romance among them, but that is different from her actually trying to help him out with his chaotic love life. For all the gossiping she does, she speaks sincerely now, and it allows Caleb to relax a bit and smile at her. _

_ “Thank you, Jester.” _

_ She returns the smile and reaches under the table to grab his hand in both of hers. “You may just call me your little blue cupid, Caleb!” _

Jester contacts him early in the morning with a Message, and Caleb is quick to slip out of his home while Lucien remains asleep. He knows the town just well enough to find the inn they’re staying at and relishes in the feeling of Lucien’s heartbeat growing distant in his chest. On the other hand, Nott’s is coming much closer. It may only be a few more days until she arrives, but much can change in far shorter time.

Fjord and Jester greet him in the bar at the inn with breakfast already ordered, and Fjord quickly calls for another plate for Caleb. It is honestly the first time he has eaten anything that isn’t stale in a very long time, and he tries to conceal just how good it feels to eat warm food again. Warm food with company, at that. They eat in relative silence as other patrons come in and out of the inn, minding their own business and striking up their own conversations.

Fjord is the first to speak up. “That guy… isn’t Molly, is he?”

Caleb shakes his head, not looking up from his food. “He woke up with no memories of Mollymauk, they are not the same at all.”

“Do you think he is a new Molly, then?” Jester asks. “Like he woke up with no memories and now he is trying to discover his past as Lucien whatever?”

He shakes his head again. “No, he’s the original Lucien. It’s as if the last few years he spent in the ground and as Molly never happened.”

“Why did he know you, Caleb?”

Caleb doesn’t answer Jester’s question, not immediately. He takes his time drinking the coffee provided to him in one large sip. When he sets the cup back down, he stares at the swirling wood on the table instead. Where he once may have been a private man who kept these things to himself, Caleb no longer feels himself caring for that level of secrecy he once employed to keep himself safe.

It helps that he has spent the last four years distancing himself from these friends who were once very capable of hurting him. “We are soulmates,” he says simply. “He is my third. My primary.”

Jester’s voice becomes quieter and she stops eating altogether. “But you and Molly…”

“Were never fated,” Caleb says. “Lucien and I always have been, though. When he died, I lost track of his pulse. It only returned when he woke up just recently. That is why I know that they are not the same person.”

“Oh, Caleb…” she coos, and he shrugs her concern off without a response.

Right now, he does not want the comfort of his friends, if they could even be called that anymore. He wants some semblance of peace, to return to the life he had just a few weeks ago where everything was quiet and dull. That life suited him far more than any of this chaos, but perhaps this is what he deserves for all the sins he’s committed leading up to now. He spent his entire life running from his crimes and the pain he’s inflicted on other people, and now it’s time it all caught up to him.

Fjord and Jester turn to each other to speak silently. Caleb doesn’t look their way, not caring for whatever it is they may be discussing. Pity, probably. Disappointment, maybe. He knows Molly was once their friend as well. They wanted to see him, too. They were saddened by his death, too.

“If you want,” Fjord starts, “we can find somewhere else for him to hide out, I get how this could be… uncomfortable for you.” Understatement of the year. But Caleb hears the concern in Fjord’s voice, and he does appreciate it on some level.

Caleb shrugs his shoulders. “It will do no good. I don’t think he would leave now that we have been introduced.”

“I am very strong, and Fjord is very magical!” Jester says eagerly. “We will kick his ass for you if you need to, so hard that he will never come back!”

“Jester,” Fjord says warningly, and she shrinks back by just a margin. Caleb understands what he means; like it or not, this man is still related to Molly in some way. To just beat him up and act as if none of them have lingering feelings towards him would be a lie and betrayal of their own emotions. She falls silent again and leans her arms on the table.

“I’m sorry, Caleb,” she says. “We should have met with him before all of this.”

“It is… alright. How would you have known not to bring him, anyways?”

She offers him a small smile. “I guess that’s true. Still, me and Fjord will stay in town for a few more days just in case, alright? You know where to find us and you can send me a message anytime you’d like.”

Caleb returns the smile, albeit with much more exhaustion. “Thank you, Jester, Fjord.”

“Are you sure you’re alright to go back to that guy?” Fjord asks.

“I think the only way he will leave is if I can convince him,” Caleb says with a heavy sigh, already beginning to pick himself up from the table. “If I require force, I will, uh… be in contact with you.”

He begins to head to the door of the inn with his coat wrapped tight around his body. It’s only when the door is open and the cold air is let in does a voice stop him.

“Wait, Caleb!” Jester says, and he can hear the scrape of her wooden chair against the floor as she stands. He simply turns to look at her, not closing the door as they make eye contact. Her cheer and merry face have dropped this time, and she shares a glance with Fjord before looking back at Caleb.

The smile that comes to her face is more forced than the last.

“I missed you.”

Caleb doesn’t try to return the expression and lowers his head. “It was good to see you, too.”

And he shuts the door of the inn behind him.

It is hard to decipher his own heart, as if it were written in another language that he only knows a few words of. He can hear the tone of its words and try to assume what kind of emotion he must be feeling, but it is impossible to try and comprehend what or why it is. Leaving the inn feels the same way; Caleb has no idea how he truly feels about seeing Jester and Fjord again after this long. The two of them haven’t changed very much, and speaking to them is like being warped back four years in time. Many nights he wished for the same thing for different reasons, and to go back in time and still be missing Mollymauk feels too cruel.

On the other hand, Jester’s smile does good work to warm his heart. Caleb isn’t sure that will ever change.

He can tell by the rate of the heart beating loudest in his chest that Lucien is awake right now. He must still be in the bookstore if his location is anything to go by, and Caleb takes his time walking through town picking up groceries and other small errands. There isn’t any hurry to get home and see the man, but he certainly doesn’t want him just roaming about his home unsupervised.

Caleb stops at his own front door, lingering outside and focusing on the pulses in his ribcage. At this proximity, he can feel Lucien’s location precisely, can feel him moving around the store, stopping, and moving again. This morning, he was able to pretend for just a minute that the one sleeping on the couch with their gentle heart next to his was a different, much more familiar man. To open this door would be to break that illusion. He has no other choice.

As soon as he steps inside, he hears Lucien’s voice. “There you are, I was just about to go and fetch you myself,” he calls from the side of the shop. The tiefling appears behind a row of bookshelves and smiles at Caleb as he approaches. “I still haven’t eaten since Cree and I left the road, and I’m absolutely  _ famished _ .”

“There is bread in the kitchen,” Caleb says, seamlessly resuming the work he had been doing before he left as he picks up a dirty rag. He resumes his cleaning by wiping down the front counter of dust and debris left over from his impromptu barricading.

“Where is the kitchen?”

“Upstairs to the right.”

“You won’t show me yourself,” Lucien says, words that should’ve been a question coming out more as a statement.

Caleb nods. “I am busy.”

“That counter was already clean.”

“I do not want to talk to you.”

“At least you’re being honest, now.”

Conversation with the man is enough to make Caleb seeth, something settling in his stomach that feels rotten to its core. He can’t help but have this reaction to him, as much as his instincts try to convince him to be comforted by being together. Even now, part of him feels relief as Lucien stalks up behind him, their hearts naturally synchronizing as Caleb tries to maintain his anger. It’s the only part of him he seems to have control of.

Lucien leans his elbow against the desk where Caleb has frozen, giving him a quizzical look that the human doesn’t meet. “I’ll be staying here,” he says with finality, offering Caleb no other options. “I can remain in touch with the Gentleman here and be protected by somebody trustworthy. The fact we are soulmates is the cherry on top.”

“What makes you think I am trustworthy?” The words spill from Caleb’s mouth before he can think any better. But he knows that if he thinks at all about what he’s to say, his point will be diluted. “Who is to say I don’t turn you in to the first inquirer that comes knocking to get you off my hands? There are many windows inside this bookstore. No single room is safe to hide a criminal in.”

As Caleb turns to deliver his full ire to Lucien, a sharp fingernail is jabbed into his chest just over his heart. “You won’t turn me in,” he says. “You don’t seem like the type. I also have  _ him _ in me.”

Caleb feels his tongue sour at his words. He wants to fight back, to kick and yell and tell him that he’s wrong, but he knows better. He knows that he is weak. If Lucien were to walk out this door right now, as much as he would be relieved to return to his normal life, a part of him would continue to ache. It wouldn’t just be his heart that longs for its companion, either; it is impossible to separate Mollymauk from Lucien in his mind.

It has only been a day, he tells himself. In the future, he may be able to pry the two apart in his head and finally turn Lucien away and be free. That’s what Caleb tells himself to keep from snapping out at the man who takes his silence as compliance.

Lucien speaks as if he’s won. “I’m sure a man of your wily nature with a background in adventuring does not simply own a home with no privacy and without a secret room I could hide in.  _ Just in case _ and all.”

He says it so simply, as if he has already figured Caleb out just from the few words they’ve exchanged. Cree would not know enough about any of them to give Lucien this kind of information. Mollymauk was always a people person, but he used his skills for good, for helping others and picking up on people’s reserves to help break them down. He had worked Caleb out of his walls so gently, so sweetly, that Caleb began to tear the bricks down himself to let him in.

This man has taken to a sledgehammer instead. Even without complete knowledge of Caleb’s history or personality, he knows that there are walls. It doesn’t matter why they’re there or what they’re surrounding as long as they come down, just enough for Lucien to get what he wants.

Caleb turns around and stomps to the back of the shop with Lucien following at his heel. Past the stairway leading up to his living quarters, he uncovers the same trapdoor that they entered through from the cellar. He holds it up and gestures down to the basement with a single wave.

“This is all,” he hisses. Lucien kneels near the edge and peers inside curiously before Caleb slams the door back down on top of it. When he storms away this time, Lucien doesn’t follow. “If you don’t want to be seen, it’s best you stay down there.”

It’s the first time the man has done anything Caleb said, and he doesn’t see him for the rest of the day.

Only once he hasn’t reappeared after an hour does Caleb sigh in relief, and without anything else on his errand list, he begins to reset the shop. It’s a late start, but he’s eventually able to flip the sign back to ‘Open’ and take his seat behind his desk as if everything fine. He can’t imagine anyone was particularly upset to see the shop down for a few hours, but he’s relieved to find a few patrons actually do come in to use the reading area today and purchase a couple of tomes. It’s enough work to keep Caleb busy between reading his own novels. He's so busy trying to be busy that he doesn't even notice one of the books on his personal stack is missing.

The thought of Lucien never leaves his head, though. It’s as if the man is simply sitting just in the corner of his eye, never directly in his line of sight but always there. He can feel his heart beating steadily, the proximity reminding Caleb of his presence every time he lets his mind wander for more than a few seconds. It’s all he can do to try and focus on the novel he’s attempting to tear though. It takes three times as long to finish just because he has to reread everything a few times before it registers.

But he works. And eventually, the sun has set, and he turns the sign over at the first sight of the lamps being lit. With actual traffic today, he has a fair bit of work to do reorganizing all the books that were left out or sorted into different places. Caleb never has much else to do in the evenings, thus the process of just going through the bookcases that he has memorized and fixing everything has become routine. It may take hours to go one by one, but what else would he spend his time doing otherwise?

It’s that work that keeps his mind occupied enough to not register Lucien leaving the cellar until he is walking right in front of him. Caleb jumps, preparing a biting remark when he sees the tiefling walk straight past him with his hands up defensively. He merely steps up to the couch he’d been sleeping on the night prior and picks up one of the old pillows on one end of it. “I’ll pay you to buy me a finer one tomorrow,” he says on his return to the back of the store. “I can’t sleep on wine and books. I’ll also pay for you to install blinds and shutters on the windows when the shop is closed so I am not trapped every hour of the day.”

Wine and books is how Caleb had been planning to spend the rest of his night. He doesn’t say anything to Lucien as he passes by and makes quick work of finishing up his business locking up the store before heading back upstairs.

He cannot even try reading tonight. Every interaction, as small as it is, leaves Caleb disturbed to his core. He wrestles with his blankets and pillow in bed as he attempts to fight back the intrusive thoughts that have been eating away at the edge of his mind since morning. It has only been the first day, and yet it feels like an eternity. Fjord said this would last no more than a month, but even then, he is not sure he will survive.

In the end, he turns to wine anyways. It’s the only thing to help ease him into rest, the prospect of a hangover the next day not too unattractive, either. Any kind of pain may help to detract from the harm his wandering mind may inflict.

_ Caleb doesn’t think anything of Nott leaving their room for that night to spend time with the girls. They’ve gotten much closer recently, and he’s honestly happy to see her doing so well with others. She gives him a big grin as she leaves, and the smile on his face remains as he continues copying spells from one of his new tomes to paper. _

_ It isn’t long before the door opens again. “Did you forget something?” he asks without looking up, and the wrong voice chuckles before shutting the door. _

_ “Just my manners. Pardon me for not knocking,” Mollymauk says, and Caleb stares at him incredulously. _

_ “What--did you need something?” he asks again, though the question is directly intended for Molly this time. “You know Nott will be suspicious when she comes back and you’re here for too long.” _

_ Molly shrugs and slowly makes his way over to where Caleb is curled up in the corner of his bed with deliberate steps. “Funny, I thought the same until a little blue birdie told me your room would be empty tonight…” _

_ Caleb rolls his eyes, smile coming to his face. “Of course she would meddle--Jester found us out.” _

_ “I assumed as much.” Sliding his boots off, Molly folds his coat at the end of the bed and climbs atop to join Caleb leaned up against the wall. The human naturally lifts his back so an arm can wrap around his shoulders before he leans into Molly. “Does it bother you?” _

_ He shakes his head. “No. I think she would not tell anyone something like this. Although she might rat us out accidentally by scripting these opportunities for us.” A little blue cupid indeed. _

_ Mollymauk laughs and pulls Caleb tight to his side by his shoulders in an embrace. His spells long forgotten, Caleb sets all the paper and ink safely aside before returning to Mollymauk’s hip to be enveloped again. “I’m not going to complain about getting to spend more time alone with you. It’s so rare as it is.” _

_ “Yeah,” Caleb says, eyes closed as he inhales Mollymauk’s familiar scent. It has a way of naturally calming him. “Nor would I.” _

_ “Tired?” _

_ “Only now that you’ve come in and ruined my work.” _

_ “And here I was looking forward to staying up and talking all night.” _

_ “I can order coffee from the tavern if you’d like.” _

_ Mollymauk shakes his head and squeezes Caleb’s shoulder. “I’m only kidding.” It takes a bit of maneuvering to shift them both beneath the blankets while trying not to break physical contact. Caleb laughs as Mollymauk rolls over him to puff out the lamp and falls right back down onto the bed. Before anything else, their hands find each other in the darkness, fingers lacing together naturally. _

_ “I’ve no doubts Jester will be the one to wake us up early in the morning so you can run back to your room,” Caleb says quietly, and Mollymauk chuckles. _

_ “I’ll be sure to thank her for giving us this time. We’ve only gotten to sleep together twice, haven’t we?” _

_ “Three times. You were drunk the last.” _

_ “Right, I forget about that one.” _

_ A chuckle bubbles its way up Caleb’s throat as much as he tries to restrain it. “You were pretty ridiculous that night. You wouldn’t stop reading me every kind of fortune you could; wealth, family, friends, career, love…” _

_ “Remind me how they went?” _

_ “Well, family is right out,” Caleb says. “Career and wealth were also pretty vague. Friends were very good.” His fingers intertwined with Molly’s tighten down on his hands. “Love was very good.” _

_ Mollymauk hums approvingly and cuddles closer until their noses are pressed together. He leaves a quick kiss on Caleb’s cheek. “Thank god my drunk self can still tell a good fortune that doesn’t damn him.” _

_ “We’ve already been damned by every other sort of fate,” Caleb says, returning all the affection he receives by winding their legs together. “What’s one more?” _

_ “Well, then I ask you, Caleb Widogast; who do you trust more? The fate that has assembled the strongest bonds in history for thousands of years, or me and my cards?” _

_ He knows that Molly can see him in the darkness much better than Caleb can see Molly. Caleb smiles and lets go of Mollymauk’s hands to wrap his arms around the tiefling’s middle until their fronts are pressed together. He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t need to, as he leans in to bring their mouths together in a quiet kiss. _

_ To be able to spend the night together is a blessing that Caleb thinks many lovers take for granted. Knowing they won’t be interrupted, Caleb is able to relax for once and indulge in the feeling of fingers running smooth through his hair, soft, playful lips on his own, and Molly’s warmth surrounding him. It’s almost too much, he thinks, and for a moment, Caleb fears that the weight of this emotion might drown him any moment. He should not be allowed to experience this kind of happiness, this acceptance and want that he has never known before. _

_ When Mollymauk pulls back, Caleb’s eyes have adjusted enough to the dark to make out the features on his face. He plays dumb and pretends he has to trace the outline of Molly’s smile with his fingertips anyways. _

_ Jester wakes them up in the morning with delighted, hushed squeals and coos that Caleb is never able to live down. _


	5. Grief Awry

Begrudgingly, Caleb does as Lucien asks and takes to the market before opening the shop the next day. He has to call Jester and Fjord over to help install the blinds, and he divides the money leftover for a pillow and blanket. They are both nicer than anything on Caleb’s bed. Lucien had better be grateful.

It’s another late opening when they finish their work, but this time Fjord and Jester linger around the shop for a while. They make the excuse of being genuinely interested in whatever it is he’s doing now, but he knows they could care less for literature of any kind. They’re just sentimental fools who are unable to let go of their friends after four years in spite of everything. Caleb doesn’t say anything and doesn’t stop them from looking around. He treats them like any other customer. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to seeing Nott again, though, as she comes even closer by the day.

Jester and Fjord leave part way through the day and leave Caleb to his regular work. Thankfully Lucien stays in the cellar all day today, and Caleb worries less today as he goes through the motions of closing up shop and reorganizing everything in the store. Now he simply has to add latching the shutters closed at the end of the day to his routine. He locks the door, lights the lamps, and carries on back upstairs to his loft after leaving the pillow and blanket atop the cellar door.

If it’s just like this for the next few weeks, maybe he can make it. The feeling of Lucien so close remains disconcerting, but there is hardly anything he can do to stop it. In the back of his mind, Caleb wonders if he is the first to hold such malcontent for his soulmate. The world has spun for thousands and thousands of years, to think he is the first exception to these laws would just be naive. 

The thought of others who feel the same way is comforting if only because it provides the possibility of solution. If a wizard a hundred years ago felt the same way, perhaps they came up with some kind of spell that lessens the natural effects of fate. Other races and species across the continent must have their own methods as well. He makes a mental not to check out the local library the next day; even something like this, a side project of sorts, will do well to keep his mind occupied.

Caleb doesn’t see Lucien until he is preparing his own dinner in the kitchen. He spares the tiefling only a glance before returning to his poor excuse of a meal that is primarily meat between two pieces of stone-like bread. Lucien seems awfully comfortable in a house that isn’t his as he goes through Caleb’s cabinets without asking for any kind of permission. Caleb supposes he can’t just let the man starve and doesn’t stop him.

“Why did you stop adventuring?” Lucien asks when he finally finds the same food reserves that Caleb has been eating from. “Also, I’ll pay you to buy better food.”

“I am not your servant,” Caleb snaps. “You cannot pay me to do your every wish.”

Lucien hums curiously. “I never thought I’d see someone turn down the prospect of fine food that they don’t have to pay for. Will you ignore my first question?”

“Life on the road fighting monsters is not for me,” Caleb says curtly.

“Being in here is?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m thrilled by the prospect of adventuring, but it has a place in my work. I must’ve enjoyed it when we were together if I stuck around,” Lucien says, and Caleb doesn’t remember asking him for any of this information. He keeps his eyes trained on his plate and takes a long sip of tea while hoping he leaves on his own.

Lucien ignores Caleb ignoring him and takes a seat at the small, rickety kitchen table. He leans his elbows on the top and leers at Caleb.

“Molly was in a traveling circus,” Caleb finally says because it’s all he can think of.

“A circus? Now that’s a surprise,” Lucien laughs.

“He took it very seriously.”

“I suppose I would if it were all I had after waking up alone. It’s amazing I didn’t meet any of my group while I was on the road for two whole years… besides Cree, that is.”

“I’ve never seen him quite as shaken as when he met Cree,” Caleb says. “He never wanted to know his past.”

Lucien hums curiously. “Is that so… I can’t say I’m the same. I think it’s a shame I don’t know what I did for two years.”

“Even if that man wasn’t you?”

“He  _ is _ me,” Lucien repeats slowly. “I don’t understand why it’s so difficult for you to accept such a simple truth.”

“I don’t enjoy talking to you at all.”

“Did Cree tell you about the Tomb Takers?”

“No.”

The conversation, after taking so many different converging paths, ends up in a place Caleb doesn’t want to be. He sees Lucien’s grin trained on him from across the table as he finishes his simple meal and leans farther over the table. Caleb blatantly scoots his chair back and stands, busying himself with preparing more tea just so he doesn’t have to look at the man.

Although they were all curious about Mollymauk’s past, very few of them pushed him to try and find himself. He was a complicated case where he could just move on from a past life completely detached without any actual need to restore that part of himself. He was just Mollymauk, nothing else. He didn’t need to be anything else.

Lucien speaks anyways, revealing the deep secrets Mollymauk never wanted to know. “We are a faction split from another more prominent religious group--I suppose you’d call us a cult from the outside. I became our new leader since our original group was not aggressive enough towards the right issues and was much more short-sighted than us.

“There were a few dozen of us that made the Tomb Takers and worked together for a good while. After everything happened and I split from our original faction, every single one of my men left the original order and hurried to my side. We’re all very invested in our cause. I've encountered a few recently; I was very touched to see my dear teammates had not forgotten their oaths.”

Caleb can hear it in every detail Lucien lays out; he wants Caleb to ask, to be curious and question everything he says. The information he’s providing is fascinating, because who wouldn’t want to hear about some mysterious, cool cult? Especially given it was an integral part of his lover’s history.

Caleb doesn’t say anything and swirls his tea leisurely in his cup. He doesn’t need to know all of this.

But Lucien will tell him anyways.

“We worship life,” Lucien says, “as much as we do death. There is much to do with both in this world, and it is in our best interest to understand both very intimately. I’m sure you understand what I’m getting at, right? Life without death and death without life… they are both very much within our reach.”

Bile swirls in his stomach and up through his throat, but Caleb doesn’t move from where he has his back turned to Lucien. It feels like a crime just to hear these words being spoken through Mollymauk’s voice. It goes against everything the tiefling ever believed in, his ease and lack of care in life and how simply he enjoyed things and gave. None of those core morals of service and pleasure are reflected in Lucien’s voice and character.

“We have been very successful--twice, now. Although there may have been some flukes with the first, I have defeated death successfully at least once. Magnificent, isn’t it?” Lucien explains, and Caleb can hear him stand from the table. “Word has gotten out about my resurrection as we track down our previous brothers and sisters, though. Our original order wants much from me that I have no intention of giving. That’s why I’m here, with you. It’s quite funny how all these flaws and mistakes continue to lead me to you.”

“He wasn’t a mistake,” Caleb says immediately. He doesn’t want to hear about his lover being used as a tool to bring this stranger to him.

“I couldn’t remember my own goddamn name,” Lucien says as he leans against the counter by Caleb. “You mean to tell me I should be proud of that poor, lost excuse for myself? Look at me now,” he holds out his arms, “all of my power, majesty, and status returned to its natural place in my hands. You cannot honestly say we  _ compare _ .”

At last, Caleb can no longer sit back and listen. He swings around to face him, brows bunched together in fury. “Mollymauk would never have believed in any of that escapist bullshit--and he was a far greater excuse for a man than you are.”

It seems to be the end of Lucien’s patience as well. In one fluid motion, the tiefling slams his hands down on either side Caleb on the counter, trapping him there. His smile doesn’t drop, but it falters, his red eyes reflecting something deep that Caleb never saw on Molly.

It’s a personal rage, one born from the very core of his person. A deep disgust combined with irrational frustration pushed too far. This is what becomes of a man who is truly selfish, truly egotistical when he is prodded. Molly’s simple arrogance could never compare.

“ _ Mollymauk _ would not understand, just as you can’t. My memories, my history and who I am are vital to this entire operation. If you are so focused on distinguishing me from the man who puppeted my body for a mere two years,” he hisses, leaning into Caleb’s space, “then you had best acknowledge me as my own person as well. Mollymauk would not believe in what I do because he has no memory of our past, of what we  _ went _ through. Disagree as you may, but do not try and hold us to the same standard.”

Like this, their faces mere inches apart, Caleb can make out every single difference in their faces. Lucien speaks through gritted teeth, not trying to conceal his anger although he appears to be holding something back. Caleb isn’t sure what set all of this off--calling his motives bullshit or pressing the difference in Mollymauk.

He doesn’t care enough to try and understand. He has no reason to try and understand Lucien. Caleb’s opinion of the man has already been decided, and the more aggressive he becomes, the more solidified it becomes.

Caleb challenges him with a hard stare in spite of his shaking legs. “If whatever in your past is what caused you to become this inconsiderate, temperamental, rude, arrogant, self-important bastard, then I am glad Mollymauk woke up without even your name on his lips.”

Lucien barks out a laugh, his brows rising incredulously as he tilts his head. “Arrogant? Self-important? Don’t make me laugh, dear. My ego is not born out of base  _ arrogance _ .” He leans closer, and Caleb tries his best to turn his head to the side so they don’t touch. “I was raised to be a  _ god _ .”

_ “There you are,” Mollymauk says as soon as he enters the library. _

_ Caleb lifts his head immediately from the book it had been stuck in. He speaks much more quietly out of respect for the other patrons as Mollymauk comes to the table he’s at. “How did you know where I was? I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving.” _

_ “I had Beau give me the direction and distance, from there it was just checking where you might go,” Mollymauk explains as he sits in the empty seat next to Caleb. He scoots close to look over his shoulder and into the book he’s reading. It isn’t anything fun or interesting to the average man. _

_ “That is… a lot of work,” Caleb says. “But you have found me. What did you need?” _

_ Mollymauk shrugs. “I just wanted to see you.” _

_ “...that’s all?” _

_ “Don’t say it like that,” Mollymauk says with a hushed laugh. “I just felt like coming to see you.” _

_ Caleb thinks that’s a lot of work to go through for a simple whim. He would’ve been back to the inn for the evening in time for dinner and they would’ve seen each other then. Mollymauk always does these small things that surprise him, even knowing it shouldn’t be a big deal. But Caleb overthinks it anyways, trying to understand his thought process that would lead the tiefling across town just to sit down while he read a boring book in the library. _

_ “I can leave if you’re still busy,” Molly says when Caleb doesn’t respond immediately. “I guess I should’ve checked if you were working first, huh?” _

_ “No, no, you’re fine to stay… I want you to.” A small smile comes to Caleb’s face, and once he’s sure he isn’t being rejected, Mollymauk reaches forward to brush the hair from Caleb’s forehead and behind his ear. “I’m just not used to such honesty when it comes to… things like this.” _

_ “Me saying that I want to see you?” he asks. _

_ Caleb nods. “And then coming to see me and even saying so. It makes me very happy, though, to know that you care, of course. Happier than it should make me, I think.” _

_ “It’s good to feel wanted, I’ve found.” Mollymauk returns the smile and continues tracing a delicate path down the side of Caleb’s face and down to his neck. His book has been completely forgotten by now. “Just as good as it feels to act on those small desires. I wanted to see you, and so I did, and told you so you would feel wanted. There’s no better exchange, don’t you think?” _

_ Caleb chuckles, relishing in the feeling of Molly’s fingers as they finally land on his hand. He closes his book and links their fingers together. “You’re right. That kind of honesty--in both words and actions--has always been, ah, difficult for me. It comes as a surprise.” _

_ “I would be delighted if you ever did,” Molly says honestly. “Although I’m pleased enough being able to be here.” _

_ Caleb wants to tell him that he deserves more than just this. As it is, their relationship consists mostly of Mollymauk showering him with affection when he can and Caleb only ever returning the favor. He has initiated such contact a few times, like following him to help with tasks, holding his hand first, and leading most of their kisses--but it could be so much more. _

_ He wants to be honest. He want to tell him everything, how he feels when they’re together, and just how much he wants Mollymauk. Most of all, he wants Mollymauk to  _ feel _ that same swell of affection that comes from being wanted. _

“Get away from me,” Caleb says, voice hardly above a whisper.

Lucien doesn’t put up an argument this time. He straightens his back, returns his hands to his side and stomps out of the kitchen without another look in Caleb’s direction.

With shaking hands, Caleb returns to the cup of tea he just made, reaching into the cabinet above him to grab a bottle of liquor. The two don’t go very well together, and he accidentally pours too much into his cup, but it hardly matters now. He drinks the entire thing in one messy down, tea and alcohol spilling from the edges of his mouth and onto his already stained coat.

They will talk about this again. It will come up whenever they speak, a barrier that is impossible to best. Caleb doesn’t know if it is an issue he should try fixing, what the benefit would be. If it means never having to come to terms with whatever Lucien is, Caleb would fight with the man for eternity.

In bed, Caleb tries to push aside the loud beat of Lucien’s heart in his chest just long enough to focus on Nott’s. She will be here very soon. As much as Caleb tries to curse the logistics of fate and the natural reaction one has to their soulmates, he’s drunk enough to take comfort in the closeness of his best friend. If not Lucien, he can allow himself the contentment and warmth of at least on soulmate.

He doesn’t see Lucien the next day, but he can feel his presence and movement in the store, carefully avoiding Caleb at all time.

The next day is the same, and the one after that. Fjord and Jester leave the next day with parting hugs that he cannot sincerely return.

Then, they meet in the kitchen and argue again.

They exchange snide remarks the next day as well.

All Caleb has to look forward to is the gradually closing distance of his very dear friend, and by the time he feels her in town, he practically waits at the door. He may not have been that excited to see Fjord and Jester, but Nott is different; they have always been each other’s number one. She knows everything about Caleb and was his primary help during his grief when Molly passed away. It will be easier to speak with her than anybody else, and at a time like this, he needs outside help. His own obstinance will not provide an answer to this or any dilemma. So he waits at the window and ignores all the other townsfolk, searching for a single familiar face in the masses.

When he finally catches sight of a short, green woman in town standing by the library, he perks up for the first time in a long time and runs around the counter to throw the door wide open. Nott meets his eye immediately and breaks out into a sprint, her face split in a grin.

“Caleb!” she cheers, jumping into his arms as soon as she’s within range. He holds her close, able to carry the goblin into the store and shut the door behind them. With one hand, he turns the sign back to ‘Closed’ and sets her on the ground. “I was so worried when I felt your pulse going crazy, and then it didn’t stop, so I figured something must be going really wrong but you are alive!”

He smiles, and it doesn’t feel forced. It takes very little for Nott to make up her mind and come see him, believing something is amiss simply by his heart rate. After all this time, she remains his fearless protector. “I am alive,” he agrees, “but something is… wrong. I am very glad you’re here though, I have never needed you more.”

Her concern remains evident, but she continues to smile reassuringly as she takes his hand in both of hers. “Anything, Caleb, you know that. I would drop everything to come back to you.”

“You just did.”

Her smile widens. “I did.”

It hurts every time he notices changes in her appearances. She wears different clothes, her hiding more efficient with less tattered shawls and her bandages replaced with leather bands on her wrists and high collars on her neck. She doesn’t appear to be some sickly, terrifying goblin trying to hide amongst the humans anymore; she looks like herself, and it isn’t a bad thing. He wonders what all has changed in her life, what she has gone through to end up here and everything that’s gone on in her life while he’s been gone.

But it is the same as Jester and Fjord; to pretend he cares now after abandoning them would just be cruel. Nott wouldn’t care, he knows she wouldn’t, but that’s why he has to enforce his own morals in her place to make himself feel better. He has no right to put himself in her life after everything.

Only once he’s sure that Lucien remains in the cellar does Caleb take his young friend upstairs to his loft. It isn’t the first time she’s been to visit him, and she usually makes a habit of coming to see him at least one a year. The first year she had visited eight times just because she missed him so much, but Caleb never changed. He thinks it’s his own fault she’s stopped coming by as frequently as there is hardly anything for her here when he is like this.

She happily sits on his bed and looks around the room despite both of them knowing that nothing has changed since her last visit. If anything, it is just messier than usual because of his frequent outbursts and drunken stumbling in the nighttime. She doesn’t say anything about that though, and faces Caleb when he sits at the foot of his bed.

“So… what happened?” she asks, voice quiet and serious.

He smiles, naturally reaching out to hold the end of her cloak between his thumb and index finger. Caleb rubs the smooth material and tries not to meet her eye as he speaks for fear of an honest reaction. “My third soulmate returned,” he says, and Nott gasps.

“But I thought you said that they had…”

“Died, yes. But they have returned. Do you remember Cree, the tabaxi woman from the Gentleman’s bar?”

He takes his time explaining everything. Nott’s face shifts through a variety of emotions as the story goes on, delightful to hear Mollymauk has returned, confused when it isn’t him, shock to hear Lucien is his soulmate, until she remains completely still and silent. A lot has happened in the past month when Caleb first felt Lucien’s heart return to his chest. This is the only proper opportunity to catch up, so Caleb pours everything out without sparing a single detail.

He even tells her about the fights, quieter and much more carefully than stating simple facts. When he meets Nott’s eye, there’s a deep understanding and sympathy only she could provide for him, and he has never felt so grateful to feel the beat of his best friend’s heart so loudly in his chest. Caleb can allow himself to feel comforted by Nott of all people--or rather, only Nott.

“He insists that he and Mollymauk are the same person, that Molly was just some kind of fluke on his mission for some… cultish fucked up quest to end death or something. And you know Molly would never support anything like that, he never thought anything like that,” he says, grip on her cloak tightening.

Nott nods in agreement. “He wouldn’t, no. Molly would laugh at somebody like him, he was… content with life and death.”

Caleb nods furiously. It feels good to finally have somebody understand, and he smiles at Nott sadly. “Yes, exactly… We fight whenever we see each other, and I don’t have the slightest idea what I should do or if I even should try not to fight. If I stop, it would be coming to terms with Lucien, and who he is, which is who… Molly isn’t. There’s no way I can accept him.”

Nott reaches out and grabs his hand instead, and that instinctual part of his brain that functions on fate alone tingles with relief at the contact. “But he does exist, and he is… here now. You have to decide if he is Molly or isn’t, you know. He is already here, and it doesn’t sound like he’ll be leaving soon; you can’t ignore it.”

“I… know, deep down I do know,” Caleb sighs in resignation. It isn’t good to hear, but he knows that Nott is sensible in times like these. When Caleb irrationally rejects what doesn’t please or make sense to him, she has a good way of bringing him back to logic. “But if he is not Molly, then it would almost be like admitting he  _ was _ a mistake. And I cannot believe that anything resembling Molly is left inside of that bastard.”

To reconcile would also mean to accept Lucien as his soulmate, and as it stands, that option is unacceptable. Caleb cannot even bring himself to like the man, much less feel as strongly for him as his two other best friends. It’s hard to imagine any instance where Lucien might provide him the same kind of comfort as the woman in front of him, or the support Beau had given him.

Caleb lets go of Nott’s hand to cover his face, fingers digging into his hairline. “He cannot even have death--why can’t he have death? Why must his legacy be mocked like this, parading around his corpse like a puppet? I simply want to... mourn. There is nothing I need that he could fulfill. I have no need to come to terms with him, or to accept him as my soulmate. I was living fine before he came, and all he has done is… ruin that.”

Nott remains silent, and when Caleb looks through his fingers to see her reaction, her eyes have returned to roaming around the room. Her lip is wedged tightly between her teeth, and she lets out a large sigh. “Caleb… you know I trust you in so many things, and I have no doubt that everything you say about him is true. But the only thing I can’t trust you with is deciding what’s best for yourself.”

His eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know if you can say you were living fine before he came. This… place, this life you’ve chosen… I’ve never seen you happy, Caleb. I’ve never seen you sad, either. Every time I came to visit, it was like speaking with a corpse. It saddened and terrified me, and I couldn’t do anything but spend these four years worrying about you.  _ Missing _ my Caleb.”

“Nott…”

She shakes her head to keep him from speaking. Gently, Nott reaches out to pull his hands from his face and holds his wrists out between them. When their eyes meet again, Nott is practically pleading with him. “Is this mourning?” she asks. “Sitting here in the dark doing nothing, giving up on your dreams and resigning yourself to this boring life?”

It strikes a sore spot. Immediately, Caleb has the urge to shut her out, to lash out and yell at her for questioning such a delicate topic. They never spoke much of Molly after he died, just as Caleb tried not to think about him for the last six years since that day.

He knows Nott, though, and he knows just how much she cares. He can feel her heart beating wildly in an effort to get through his shell the way only she was ever able to in the past. The topic of Lucien himself has been pushed aside entirely as they finally breach a topic he had never dared touch with anyone else since Molly died.

“When your mourn, you cry, and you throw tantrums, and you break everything around you and get angry at people you love,” she says, shaking his wrists in her hands. “But you only ever shut us out and locked yourself away, like you didn’t want to feel anything.”

“Because it hurts,” he whispers, and Nott finally smiles, knowing she has gotten through to him at last.

“Then  _ let it _ . Scream and sob and yell.”

“I haven’t cried for him in years, Nott. I don’t… have the right to, now.”

She leans closer to maintain eye contact as he lowers his head. Nott lifts his chin with a gentle hand. “You don’t lose the right to love somebody, Caleb. This Lucien might be a nightmare, but if anything, his presence has helped kind of… jump start your life again. You used to just be a husk, but now you’re  _ angry _ and you’re  _ sad _ , and that’s worth a lot.”

“I had to, it hurt too much, I couldn’t  _ bear it _ ,” Caleb whispers, and with one gentle tug, Nott wraps her arms around his head and pulls Caleb into her chest.

“You deserve to mourn, Caleb. You deserve  _ this _ pain.”

At that point, Caleb stops talking. He couldn’t speak if he wanted to as the first sobs bubble in his throat and he can no longer hold himself back.

He has thought about Mollymauk more in these past few days than he has in the six years since his death. It’s cruel, Caleb thinks, to ignore his memory for so long. He shouldn’t deserve to remember his kind face after shutting him out for so long. He doesn’t deserve even the memory. But right now, he can’t help it; he feels, and he hurts so truly and so  _ raw _ .

Caleb wraps his arms around his smaller friend, and she squeezes him tightly as he pours everything out into her chest. He cries, fingers clenching tightly in the fabric on her back as he scrambles for some kind of purchase on the material world. For so long, he has forced himself to remain in the present, afraid of what the past might hold if he were to revisit it. Now he’s sent spiralling, unable to register anything around him as his memories consume him.

Nott holds onto him the entire time, though, not letting him lose everything. This close, their hearts beat together, her steady pulse helping guide his heart into normalcy. She is warm and soothing and her hands rub into his back in changing patterns that help ground him.

“I want to see him again,” Caleb says when he is finally capable, and she envelops him in a tight hug. She doesn’t say anything. “It’s so cruel… life is so cruel, delivering him to me and changing my life and ripping him away before I could  _ tell  _ him.”

“He knew.”

“But I need to tell him myself, and now I never can. I never knew I could want before we met, and I want so much, now. There’s so many things I want to talk about, places I want to go, and things I want to do together. I look at anything and think how much better it would be if he were here, and then I cannot do anything at all. There is no… use to doing anything when it won’t ever be how it could with him.”

Nott runs her fingers through his hair and places a small kiss atop his head.

Caleb hesitates, caught by another sob in his throat before his words return. They tumble from his mouth like a waterfall, a dam broken that has been holding back years of pain and emotion. At this point, he hardly even remembers how to process it. “I’ve lost so much, I don’t know how to hold onto what I have. I think I am… the reason he died--”

“Caleb--”

“That because I tempted him to defy both of our fates, he was punished in my stead, and now I have to suffer. And he, too--he doesn’t even have dignity in dying with this bastard walking with his body.”

“Caleb, you know that isn’t true. You killed Lorenzo; you avenged him the best you could.”

“I know it isn’t true, but I still feel it, and I cannot make it leave my head,” he rants, shaking his head. “I feel like a child, and all I want is to see him one more time-- _ him _ , not this poor excuse for him in the cellar. I want to see him, I want to talk to him and touch him and nothing will ever feel alright until I can and yet I  _ can’t _ , never again.’

“It’ll be alright,” Nott shushes him sweetly. “Let it hurt.”

He does.

It hurts, it hurts, and it’s so painful he cannot believe his body is intact when it feels as if he’s being ripped from the inside out. There is this strong desire, a need for something he can never have, and the withdrawals of this addiction are not anything he can ever fight down. He’s grasping at thin air trying to take hold of something that has already left, but it isn’t as if he can simply give up. The moment he stops trying, the moment his hands fall to his side, it will be as if Mollymauk has truly gone.

_ Caleb questions his friends about Mollymauk’s whereabouts, but no one seems to have a definite answer. The fool never tells people where he’s going, always waltzing out the door as soon as they get some free time. Usually he would offer Caleb to come with him if he were just strolling about whatever town they’re in at the time. _

_ There is nothing and nobody outside of the inn that stands out. Caleb keeps his eyes peeled as he walks around town. It isn’t that he needs Molly for anything in particular, he’s simply curious, and if he wants to see the man for his own selfish reasons then by god, he’ll do it. Molly had spent many days convincing him to indulge in those whimsical desires that Caleb always thought were petty and childish, too clingy for two adults to partake in. _

_ It doesn’t take too long to find Mollymauk. He stands out in a crowd, especially when the crowd consists of much smaller children and a few teenagers. They all gather around a fountain that has long stopped spewing water, watching as Mollymauk sits on the edge and shuffles through his cards. He exchanges some words with the teenage girl standing in front of him before she points to one of the cards he’s holding out face down. _

_ Caleb just smiles and stays back, watching from afar as Molly tells the fortunes of all the children around until even their parents come to ask for assistance. He can’t help but notice that those who are unable to pay the single silver fee mysteriously find one or two gold in their pockets as they leave, a mischievous glint in Molly’s eye. Caleb rolls his eyes as the last person leaves, deciding to interrupt before another line forms. _

_ “You will not be making much of a profit if you continue giving away all your gold like that,” he says. _

_ Mollymauk chuckles as he packs his cards away and slings his bag back over his shoulder. “I fear more for my reputation. If I tell someone they will soon come into more coin, it is better for everyone if they find it soon, no? Like free advertising.” _

_ Caleb waits for him to stand once he has all his belongings together. “If only you charged enough to make up for it.” _

_ “Oh, who cares about the details. Why’re you out here anyways?” Molly asks as they fall into step alongside each other, walking back towards the inn. _

_ This is what Mollymauk had been telling him about. These silly little impulses, childish as they feel, are still useful. Caleb is much happier that he came out to find Molly instead of just waiting for him to get back. So he says that. “I just wanted to see you.” _

_ Mollymauk’s face splits into a wide grin. He lowers his head for a moment and chuckles to himself before he just grabs Caleb’s hand. “Don’t let anyone else know you are secretly so sweet. Those words shouldn’t feel so good to hear.” _

_ Caleb squeezes Molly’s hand and returns the smile. “It feels good to say.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know how this of all things became my new passion project but i swear it does get happy it just... takes a while.
> 
> i also cannot wait for all my lucien theories and fake backstory bullshit to be proved wrong so please just enjoy my ideas and entertain me for this short period of ignorance


	6. Olive Branch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey kids seasonal depression slapped me in the face like a real motherfucker so this fic is my self indulgent depressed getaway

“I can stay longer if you’d like, Caleb, it’s no problem at all,” Nott says on the fourth day of her visit.

Caleb smiles and fights down the urge to accept her offer. He feels safer with her around, her presence doing wonders just for his mental health alone. But he cannot selfishly keep her around for his own sake; Nott has a life of her own, now. She has places she needs to be and people to return to. “No, this is fine. Thank you for everything, Nott… Maybe I will come visit you, next.”

Her smile widens as their hands naturally come together, and she squeezes his fingers. “I would love that, Caleb… really, I would.” She seems to hesitate for just a minute, looking between their joined hands and the door behind Caleb leading into the shop. “Please… let me know if you need anything. I’m always just a message away, and this guy, this Lucien…”

It stings to hear. For the most part, this week has been about Mollymauk, about mourning someone who has already been lost. They don’t speak much about Lucien himself, and when they do, she has very little to say. Caleb can’t blame her for not having all of the answers when he can’t even pinpoint what half the questions are. “I know, and I definitely will.”

“Don’t force yourself to accept him if you don’t. Don’t go all the way for this douchebag if he’s only giving halves, and kick him out if you get too tired. I let a few vials of poison under your pillow--”

“ _ Nott-- _ ”

“Just in case,” she continues, speaking quickly as she hurries to cover all of her bases. “If he’s just an ass then leave him behind, and then maybe, maybe if… if you’re tired of your life here after everything… you’re always welcome to come live with me.”

He knows what she’s saying. Nott was right when she said Lucien had jump started his emotions after four years of numbness, and though he yearns to return to that safe grey, he knows there is no hope. There won’t be any going back once this is all over, whenever ‘over’ is, and he doesn’t know what he’ll do then. There’s a good chance he might take her up on that offer.

Caleb kneels in front of her and envelops his friend in a tight hug that she is quick to reciprocate. He feels her heart sync up with his, so natural and easy, and lets the calm wash over him. “Thank you, Nott. You are the dearest friend I’ve ever had, I don’t deserve your kindness.”

She pulls away just enough to take his face in her hands and offers him a tearful smile. “Caleb… last thing--if this all… isn’t shit, and it isn’t horrible and some joke by the gods--and this is just an if, but if a good chance presents itself to you… I hope you let yourself take it.”

Rejecting Lucien, blocking negative things out of his life, and speaking his mind are all far easier tasks. Caleb inhales slowly through his nose, unable to provide any promise or coherent answer that she might be pleased with. He can see in her eyes that she doesn’t expect him to, her somber smile disappearing for a second as she leans in to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Please forgive yourself,” she whispers against the hair stuck to his forehead. “And then… come back to us. I’ve talked with Jester, and we’re going to meet up, and… they miss you, too.”

“I cannot promise anything,” he says, “but… I have begun missing you all, too, for what it is worth.”

“It’s worth a lot.”

They finally let go of each other and Caleb stands back to his feet. Nott doesn’t let go of the hem of his shirt immediately, and she appears to go back and forth with herself on saying something that never comes. Instead, she just offers him a final smile and begins taking a few steps backwards.

“If you change your mind in the next few days or weeks, I’ll turn right around and come back!”

“Have a safe journey, Nott,” he says with a wave, and the goblin lifts her arm in a much larger arc. The moment she finally turns around and hurries off into the crowd of the city, Caleb can feel her heart tugging on his, urging him to close the distance between them. It’s always more painful to separate suddenly from somebody after being together for a while, and he tries to fight down the ache in his chest that persists. He turns around when he can no longer see her green legs and returns to the shop.

He opens the store. Nott’s absence is painful after spending just a small while together, but the instinct is calmed by Lucien’s proximity in the basement. The tiefling has done well to stay out of sight, not leaving the cellar until nightfall when Caleb closes up shop. At least he has his own interests straight and is capable of keeping himself safe.

If he takes Mollymauk out of everything… the truth is that Caleb knows very little about Lucien himself. He knows what he is not, he knows who he isn’t, but the man himself remains a mystery. Maybe mystery isn’t the right word since it’s just a door Caleb continues to slam shut more than being unable to open it, knowing Lucien is probably wanting to speak of himself and talk to Caleb too.

Nott is right. They have to talk.

Like clockwork, Lucien comes upstairs as soon as the blinds and shutters are closed. He walks right past Caleb as the human straightens up the shop as per usual, heading straight for the couch in the back with a novel tucked under his arm. Absentmindedly, Caleb registers the book as the same one that had been missing from his counter. He’d finished reading it, but its disappearance was still puzzling.

Caleb continues to clean silently, the only sound in the bookstore the gentle ‘thump’ of books as they’re slid back into their correct shelves. For an hour, Lucien reads on the couch without moving or saying a word, and Caleb doesn’t approach him. The first step is the hardest, especially when they’ve had such chaos between them. Trying to recover from their arguments and mutually cold demeanors is difficult when it’s on Caleb’s shoulders and he still detests the man.

The silence lasts for nearly an hour and a half until noise breaks. It’s quiet, and if he were just farther across the room Caleb wouldn’t have heard at all. But he is close enough. And he can hear, frozen in place as the gentle hum he’d heard from Lucien as he slept that first night wafts through the empty store. It’s a song Caleb could never forget after it’s been whispered sweet to him for so many nights, lulling him into the best sleeps he’d ever had. The same song Yasha used to teach Molly comfort and safety.

Caleb watches Lucien’s back for a few minutes, standing, and not doing anything. He knows the man must be aware of his presence as they both always are, and in this moment, he’s simply waiting for Caleb to act. This entire week they have spent avoiding each other, he has been waiting for Caleb to act. It isn’t a foolish move, but it is only because of Nott that Caleb is able to approach him now, otherwise he would have continued to ignore him for all time.

“I’d like to talk,” Caleb says.

Lucien does not look up from the book in his lap. “About what?”

“You.”

He stops in the middle of turning his page. For a moment, he lingers, then gently lays the paper back down. His fingertips remain on the page. “Me, or ‘Mollymauk?’”

“I know now that… you and Mollymauk are different,” Caleb manages to say, having practiced the words in his head in trying to convince himself of the fact. “So I would like to hear your story… your past, so I might… understand. Understand you.”

“And what changed your mind, dear?”

Caleb balls his hands into fists at his sides. It’s taken him this long to approach the man with something resembling an olive branch, although maybe only the silhouette of what he offers are the same. “I want to understand what’s happening and… who you are. That’s all.”

The sound of carts being wheeled through town along with the noises the horses carrying them make, all the children running about in the early morning, and the chatter of daily citizens seeps through the door behind him. It is too much sound for one morning, especially right now when he is only looking to hear one person without crossing the bridge between them just yet.

If Lucien says something, Caleb can’t hear it--but he feels the tiefling’s heart falter.

Lucien claps his book shut. He stands and stretches his arms above his head, already heading towards the stairs leading to the second floor. He stops on the third step and looks back at Caleb. “Well?”

Caleb locks the front door and keeps the store closed for now. Only once he’s made sure that all the shutters are still fastened shut does he follow Lucien up the stairs to his living quarters. Instead of going towards the kitchen, though, he veers to the other wing of his loft that Caleb rarely visits. 

“This sitting room has a lot of potential, you know. You should really fix it up,” he says while holding open the door to the small living room that Caleb has hardly touched since he moved in. Most of the furniture is leftover from the previous owners who had been eager to leave town for somewhere more lively. The sofas and chairs have collected a fine layer of dust that seems to have been messily wiped away now, though it still sits atop every other surface.

Lucien relaxes back into one of the couches and lays with his head on the armrest. They’re the most comfortable pieces of furniture in the place, but Caleb has never cared for anything more than his bed. He quickly wipes off the plush armchair in the room and takes a seat, watching Lucien carefully. He wrings his hands together nervously in his lap. This is the first time he’s confronting the man with the intention of not lashing out immediately out of disgust. He isn’t sure how well it’ll go with his lingering distaste and… being prone to anger.

“Where do you want me to start, right before Mollymauk?” Lucien asks, eyes trained on the ceiling above them.

“Wherever you want.”

Lucien hums thoughtfully. Although Caleb feels as if he might retch any moment just from this peculiar situation, he fights it down and can’t help but feel bitter over how relaxed Lucien appears. For all it’s taking for Caleb to understand him, he doesn’t think the man will ever understand him if he even cared to. It’s already obvious he doesn’t care much for his feelings or personal agency.

“I was raised in a cult,” he starts, saying it as if he were speaking of the weather. “After decades if not centuries of specific breeding, I was born with the intention of becoming the vessel for the god my clan worshipped. I would bring fortune for our people and damnation for all of our many enemies. As a child, I was revered and trained by our most capable elders and champions. I was never raised to interact with any other children my age, and many of them even felt prostrate to the floor when I came by. I was held to no standards, allowed to do as I pleased, and celebrated by our entire village.”

There are many questions that Caleb wants to ask but thinks better of. Many of the characters in the Mighty Nein had their own complicated pasts, some more grand than others, and Caleb’s mind wanders to Fjord who was hand picked by a good to act out its return. This, he thinks, takes the cake. It’s curious that Lucien doesn’t mention the name of their clan, village, or even the god he himself is supposed to represent, but there must be a reason.

Without any specifics, there’s no way for Caleb to wonder how accurate anything is. There’s no way to tell if Lucien is actually the acting hand of some god or just the victim of a crazed clan’s wishes forced into reality.

Lucien continues speaking. “I became mischievous later on, though. I began collecting my own followers as I was allowed autonomy as an adult, and the more I learned of our great god and their plans, the more I deviated. I disagreed with many of our clans practices and values. It took many years of preparation before I was finally able to break free and revolt with my own people.”

“The Tomb Takers,” Caleb provides, and Lucien nods.

“Precisely. We believed in a grander life for individuals worthy, not the damning of those who we saw as enemies.” He crosses his legs at the ankle on the other side of the couch, his feet dangling off the armrest. Caleb’s eyes don’t leave his face, but Lucien doesn’t look his way. “I was still revered, as we all came from the same cult that deigned me a vessel of great power who would save us. I was still considered beloved by the god we still worshipped, who we now sought to merely free upon the world. This time, though, I decided to choose what I would do with that power--and that was the quest for eternal life.”

Just the phrase makes Caleb’s stomach churn. It isn’t an uncommon goal for cults and scholars alike, and the true hope for many people across the lands. But to most, it has remained elusive, a dream so far out of reach that none besides the gods themselves have touched it. If someone said they were pursuing it, Caleb would think not much of it because of hor impossible it is.

But Lucien is different.

Lucien has made progress.

“Twice, now, I’ve risen from certain death. The first one is arguable as it was the side effect of the very ritual that was made to bless this body, but the second time is indisputable. I died, all body processes ended, and returned. It may have taken years to recover from those wounds and awaken, but I did. And now I am picking up where I left off in our efforts.”

“And you truly believe in this?”

Finally, Lucien turns his head to meet Caleb’s eye.

“Yes. It is a gift I would bestow to my followers.”

Mollymauk’s past had been revealed much more quickly with so little to give. The curtain over the rest of his past, the history leading up to his birth, is finally lifted, and the darkness there revealed. This is the history he separated himself from, the death that led to his life, and what he ran from at all times.

Caleb wonders how Molly would react to all of this. In reality, he would probably laugh.

“My clan attributed everything to me,” Lucien continues. “Ceremonies held in my honor, held up on an altar. People stumbled and pushed each other aside just to see my face. They sacrificed their own people in my name.”

“Sacrifices?” Caleb asks.

“Yes, monthly. Typically they were enemies captured from other clans, prisoners of war. But on the greatest days of feast and celebration, their own children were selected. For prisoners, it was seen as a punishment, humiliation to lose their lives for the sake of a god they didn’t believe in. For our own people, it was the highest honor. I didn’t enjoy it, so when I formed the Tomb Takers, I decided to never receive another sacrifice. I shed my own blood instead.”

With a sharp nail, Lucien flicks his thumb with his index finger and leaves a small slice on his flesh. The blood that gradually rises to the surface immediately covers his hand in frost, and he turns it about in the sunlight.

In his head, Caleb can see Mollymauk’s grimace, the horror he would feel in knowing that so many lives were lost not just by his hand, but for his sake. In his name, in his  _ honor _ . Such things… didn’t suit him who was born without a name at all. That kind of reverence and unconditional power, his unquestioned reign, would make Molly sick. It is disgusting as much as it is terrible, and Caleb cannot say a word because Lucien does not appear to be pleased by it either.

“I have power, and though I do not know if it is divine, it is what I choose to use for my people.” He sits up, then, and crosses his legs normally over the cushions. Bright, ravenous red eyes narrow in his direction. “I did not choose this town for nothing, you know. I am not simply hiding here doing nothing.”

“There is something here?” Caleb asks cautiously.

“Yes. A set of ruins outside of town, hidden in the thick woods. It leads to a temple of the revered deity that the sorceress who blessed me honored. Cree is remaining in town as we invite the other members of our faction, and she will test their loyalty while I wait for our reassembly. Then we will take on the temple and search for answers.”

It’s a story that isn’t unfamiliar to Caleb. In all the time he has spent here, he has read more than a few books on this city’s founding and all the places around it. Legend has it that most of the original inhabitants were occultist worshipers who centered their civilization about the ruins in question when soldiers from the Dwendalian Empire eliminated them. It’s always framed like a triumphant victory for society and the general good of the lands, as if the natives had been nothing but dogs.

But because of that, many rumors lurk about the ruins in those woods. Few go near them these days as they’re littered with monsters and all sorts of strange creatures. It’s dangerous, and the only people who have written accounts of their experiences were typically sole survivors of entire teams. 

Caleb knows enough to be worried at the mention of those old legends. They did a lot of adventuring together as the Mighty Nein and took on many dungeons and baddies, but there is no saying what Lucien’s group is like. “...I see,” Caleb says for lack of another answer. But how should he react to all of this information? “You have had a very rough upbringing.”

Lucien shrugs. “It has made me stronger than I would’ve been if I were the one being slain on that altar. They’re the ones who are trying to track me down and bring me back to the village. It’s our secondary mission to bring them down.” Caleb doesn’t try to mask his discomfort, and a small smile makes its way to Lucien’s face. “Are you content with my tale?”

“I… Thank you for telling me,” he says. “It’s good to know what all is going on here.” And what kind of trouble he’ll be getting in.

Lucien nods along, only half listening and more waiting for Caleb to finish mumbling. When he stops, Lucien picks up immediately. “And yours?” he asks eagerly.

Caleb’s brows furrow together in confusion. “Mine?”

“Your story. It’s only fair, yes?”

He pales. Mollymauk had been one of the few people he told everything to, more than the rest of their friends besides Nott. It had taken a long time before he could open up and tell him everything in the amount of detail. Part of Caleb wishes those memories hadn’t left Lucien, just so that he wouldn’t have to go through it again.

But it has been a long time since he’s thought about it, much less spoke of it. He shuffles his hands in his lap and stares down at them in thought. Lucien had just told him his entire backstory with all sorts of horrible, crazy things, and he doesn’t seem to be lying about any of it. If Lucien is willing to open up about the hundreds of people that were sacrificed in his name, Caleb should be able to tell him his past. Just recite it, he says to himself.

So he does. For just a few minutes, Caleb immerses himself back into the grey for long enough to recount his story. He doesn’t look at Lucien as he speaks, just fiddling with his thumbs as a means of keeping grounded.

His parents. His magic. The academy. Astrid. Trent. The fire. The asylum.

Lucien doesn’t say anything the entire time, and Caleb can’t see any movement from the corner of his eye. He can undoubtedly feel Caleb’s rickety heart beating beside his, and he hopes Lucien is taking it as a hint to remain silent.

He finishes when he meets the Mighty Nein, trying not to say anything past the bar they met at. When he looks up, Lucien’s eyes are tight on him, the smile disappeared from his face. Caleb prepares for humor, for some sick joke or mockery that seems in character for Lucien to do with how flippant he has taken Caleb’s feeling before.

“Awful, isn’t it?” Lucien says after a few silent moments of consideration. “The things we went through, connected to each other the entire time, and never quite knowing what the other was going through?”

Caleb blinks, partially stunned. It isn’t the reaction he expected to get at all, and he flounders. He didn’t think they would ever bring up the past that they technically share, and Caleb would’ve been fine with that. His primary soulmate had always been a ghost, a pulse without a name that disappeared when he most needed them. They were hardly ever a person in his head, and coming to terms with the fact that it is this man before him, Lucien, of all people… does not sit easily.

“...yes,” Caleb says quietly. “I always wondered what you were doing… and where you might be.”

“Not very good things,” Lucien says with a smile that seems almost genuine. “I thought the same of you. I thought  _ of _ you constantly.”

“Neither of us could really visit.”

Lucien was just an imaginary friend in the back of his head. He was a phantom, a promise of a potentially brighter future that even Caleb could experience. Not a person, never a person. It hardly occurred to him that Caleb might be the same in Lucien’s mind all this time. He had existed just the same in his head, just the hint of another world that neither of them could experience.

“I would sit on my altar, watching as the blood of a young girl my own age was spilled before me in my name, and I would focus on you,” Lucien says. “I would dream of how you might rescue me, save me from the hell I was living in. To know that there was someone--”

“--who was fated to love you for who you truly are, not who others thought you were” Caleb interrupts, and his words surprise Lucien. He cannot help but smile sheepishly. “It was comforting to me.”

The shock on Lucien’s face gradually returns to the softer smile he held before. “Yes,” he says, “I felt the same way.”

It is the first time they have truly connected.

To understand Lucien without any prior introduction is difficult, but now, the fog rises as what Lucien has seen this entire time reveals itself; they are soulmates. This is the same man Caleb had hoped to meet, and he sits before him saying everything Caleb had wished to hear. That he wasn’t abandoned, that he wanted to meet Caleb as much as he did, and that he thought of Caleb often. Even if they didn’t know each other at that point, even if they still barely know each other, it still establishes some kind of… closure that Caleb didn’t know he needed.

He lowers his head, still smiling, and wrestles with his emotions. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does to speak with Lucien like this, especially after everything that’s happened between them already. If they could erase the past, could erase the past six years, perhaps they could have met as strangers and carried on from there. This meeting would be much more grand and fulfilling without any of the baggage and negative memories surrounding it. Maybe they could’ve even been happy together.

But the past is the past, and its ghost breathes down Caleb’s neck even now. He can’t ignore it.

“That… song you were humming,” Caleb says after they’ve both had a moment. “Where did you hear it?”

The question appears to catch Lucien off guard as he doesn’t have an immediate answer prepared. “A song…? Let’s see… oh, you mean that thing? I have no idea, honestly.”

Caleb’s stomach sinks, and it must be evident on his face from the small smile Lucien offers him.

“I can’t remember where I heard every song I’ve ever listened to, can you? It’s just somewhere in the back of my head.”

In his lap, Caleb’s fingers wring together nervously. There’s no way Lucien would’ve just heard that one specific song somewhere and clung to it the same way Molly did… well, it isn’t impossible, but it’s highly unlikely. Especially considering the one gift Caleb left for Mollymauk if he were to ever wake up from his eternal slumber. “It wasn’t the music box…?”

Lucien’s brows go up in surprise. “Is that what that was?”

“What?” Caleb asks, narrowing his eyes. “You woke up in there, didn’t you? I left that there for you--for him to wake up with.”

Lucien immediately closes off, sitting up straighter as his heart thumps quickly in his chest. Caleb knows why his pulse has picked up, just the same as his own; anger. For what was going so well, Caleb had to ruin again with the memory of a dead man, and now they’re both upset. But there was no way he couldn’t bring it up.

“Come with me,” Lucien says as he stands suddenly. Caleb doesn’t say anything but follows after him.

They make their way back down the stairs to the bookstore, then around a corner in the hall to reach the cellar. Lucien grabs a lantern hanging from the ceiling as they enter just before Caleb casts Dancing Light and brightens the chamber for them. Lucien holds onto the unlit lantern anyways and leads Caleb to his modest living space in the back between two shelves of wine. Besides the pillow and blanket atop a bed of hay, Lucien’s cloak and bag are set to the side which he now dives into.

“I had the note,” Lucien says, his voice much colder than before. A folded piece of paper is thrown out of the bag and onto the ground beside him. “I had flowers on my grave, and I had this in my hands.” Caleb’s eyes widen marginally as the music box comes out now. 

Lucien stands with it, holding the wooden box out to Caleb to inspect. With one turn of the lever in the back, it creaks in protest. Nothing else comes out.

“It was rusted with my own blood when I woke. I’ve never heard it.”

Caleb takes the small box in his hands, fingers hovering over it gingerly. He can remember how he had to hum the song for a man in the market who had laughed and clapped him on the back for his efforts. Mollymauk would wind it up some nights and they would fall asleep together with it. He showed it off to the rest of their party without saying where he’d gotten it, and Yasha of all people seemed the most pleased. The first time she heard, she gave Caleb a knowing smile, and he laughed with a shrug. 

Those were good days. His best days, actually.

The top of the box creaks open, and only under the bright globules of light can Caleb see where blood stained the dark wood. Sickly orange covers the silver mechanisms and flakes as the slightest movement. It’s too small and delicate to try and clean, but there is probably a spell he could use to fix it.

“I had something else, too,” Lucien says after watching Caleb fiddle with the small box for a few minutes. He reaches back into his bag, and the next thing he pulls from its dark leather makes Caleb drop the box. It clatters on the ground with a noise that suggests it might have broken again, but he can hardly care about some silly gift he had given to Mollymauk as familiar red and purple and yellow fills his vision.

Lucien holds the coat out between his thumb and index finger away from his body as if it might infect him. It dangles in the air, crumpled and wrinkled almost beyond recognition. But Caleb can see it fine, and with just a glance, the article seemingly comes to life in his mind, billowing out and being whipped by the wind around a familiar figure. All the nights he spent tracing the intricate patterns in it. All the days he searched for its vibrant colors to track him down. Although everything has been grey since that day, those reds in particular haven’t existed since they left the coat behind, waving farewell in the snow.

Lucien continues speaking. “A flashy grave, I will say, but I would never wear something like this. I’m much more of a professional, you know.”

He moves to bring the coat around behind him, and before Lucien can ever slide his arms through the sleeves of it, Caleb lunges forward. “ _ No _ !” He snaps out and grabs the sleeves, yanking it back and away from Lucien in one unexpected motion. Without thinking, he brings it to his chest, hugging the coat close and hanging his head in shame as his body shakes. 

The feel of the fabric is the same, the patterns haven’t changed, and yet it’s different. He buries his face in the cloth desperately, searching for any sign of Mollymauk in the article of clothing. The colors are different and muted, the smell is gone, and everything is wrong.

But he holds to it, unable to help but burn alone as Lucien tuts in front of him.

“Keep it,” he says, kneeling to put his things away. “Take the music box, too. I don’t need them, and they’re far more suited for a feeble,  _ pitiable _ man like yourself.”

Lucien leaves the cellar, heeled boots clacking behind him as he leaves Caleb to himself. As soon as the door shuts, Caleb sinks to his knees, reaching out for the music box that now lies chipped on the ground. He quickly snatches it up and closes it. What Lucien said isn’t wrong, and they both know it. He holds both items to his chest, rocking back and forth and suppressing the urge to cry once more. No tears fall, but part of him wishes they would.

Without anyone to wear it, the coat is just a coat.

Without anyone to listen to it, the music box is just a trinket.

When Caleb is able to pull himself up, he holds onto both of them, never letting go even as he spends his night going through his books to remember how to use Mending. It fixes tears and repairs the box, but the colors are still dull, the smell is gone, and he is just one man listening to a song meant for two by himself for the rest of the night.


	7. Tight Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i started this fic as a super self indulgent way to vent and i wrote this chapter so quick on a bad day i haven't even edited it but here we go

The next morning would be awkward if they saw each other. Ever aware of the other’s location, Caleb makes a point to avoid wherever Lucien is, and he throws himself into his work. The bookstore has never looked as nice as it does with all the time he has for cleaning, the shelves renewed with new shipments that he orders mostly for himself. Barren shelves are refilled and it comes as a surprise to Caleb when customers actually stop in more often. Nothing he’s done has ever been for the business itself.

With the increase in traffic, Caleb is able to remain just above his thoughts and float without sinking in. The moment he breaks the surface, he knows he’ll drown, so the bookstore begins to take more priority for the next two weeks. He doesn’t see Lucien once within that time, catching a purple tail as it disappears into the cellar. The only evidence the tiefling remains in the building are the heartbeat in his chest and the novels that disappear from his own personal stack.

Lucien is a slow reader. Caleb isn’t sure if it’s because of his past or that he simply gets distracted, but he keeps himself from thinking too much about it. As soon as the name so much as pops into his head, Caleb shuts his entire thought process down and reboots his mind to start over.

He sends Nott a message informing her of his failure and gratitude for her advice nonetheless.

As more customers come, more purchases are made, and Caleb finds his coin purse heavier than it’s been in years. All he knows to do with it is continue ordering more books and storing the rest away for a rainy day he doesn’t expect will ever come. For having read every book in this store at least twice, a fresh selection is the one thing Caleb needs to fully absorb himself in a world separate from his own. New people, new places, new experiences that fill his head like a drug made to keep his mind foggy. It’s a good high, a distracting one.

So distracting that it takes an adventurer’s journal with all the nostalgia it brings to break him free of his trance long enough to make a horrifying realization; Lucien’s pulse is nowhere near the bookstore.

He’s left, and Caleb has no idea how long he’s been gone. The book he was reading is quickly slammed shut and pushed away on the counter.

It couldn’t have been yesterday, no, he felt him then, could hear his footsteps on the creaky floorboards downstairs. It had to have been as early as this morning that he left, though Caleb has no idea how he would’ve snuck out--until he remembers the very cellar door they had come in through together. He didn’t think he would need to keep a watchful eye on someone trying to hide from the public, but Caleb feels foolish for allowing a back entrance to be so accessible to Lucien even so.

He isn’t horribly far--no, as Caleb begins to rationalize his thoughts, he tries to focus on the intensity of that bright pulse in his chest. Lucien must be a good few miles away, but he’s on his way back. Slowly, that steady thump in his chest begins to grow louder, and Caleb closes the shop early as his own nerves get the best of him.

Why didn’t he notice Lucien had left? Why hadn’t he been paying attention? And if he wasn’t on his way back right now… what would Caleb have done?

It takes another two hours before Lucien comes within range, and Caleb hasn’t left his post at the counter watching the windows anxiously. It makes sense that he would enter the same way he left through the cellar, not the front door Caleb had been guarding. He quickly makes his way to the back loft where he throws the cellar door open with Thaumaturgy before he’s even near it. The moment it’s open, he sees a pair of red eyes staring back at him in surprise.

Lucien rises from the cellar depths to face Caleb in the hallway. He wears the same black cloak he’d arrived in, the hood down now that he’s in the safety of the bookstore again. Caleb can just make out an uncanny shape on his back beneath the robe that he figures must be a bag.

Before Caleb can begin interrogating him, Lucien speaks.

“I wanted to talk with you.”

“Where were you?”

“Meeting with Cree about our next move,” he says simply, as if it were obvious. “Let me upstairs.”

He does. They don’t speak on the way up to Caleb’s living quarters, and he lets Lucien decide where they’ll be speaking. He’s surprised when the tiefling turns towards Caleb’s room instead of the sitting room he had spoken so highly of last time they saw each other. 

In Caleb’s room, Lucien removes his cloak and hangs it over a chair. Caleb’s eyes are immediately drawn to his waist where one lone scimitar is sheathed at his belt, the same one they’d left Molly with. The bag on his back that he unfastens now to set on the ground is different from the one he has in the basement.

Caleb pretends to make himself comfortable by taking a seat on the edge of his bed. “What did you want to talk about?” he asks.

Lucien remains standing. “I’m tired of going back and forth like this, Caleb. We need to move on.”

It’s a much more direct approach than Caleb had expected or prepared for. He’d thought this war of passive aggression would go on until Lucien eventually left for whatever ungodly mission he had in mind. And, to be honest, that probably would’ve been the best outcome for both of them.

“Move on into  _ what _ exactly?” Caleb asks, struggling to maintain eye contact. Lucien’s serious stare looks straight through him as if he can already read all of Caleb’s thoughts, and with the pulses in their chest, he’s pretty close to being able to. For how calm and composed Caleb attempts to maintain, he can’t keep his heart from beating wildly for fear of what Lucien might say.

“Us.”

The mere word makes Caleb’s face scrunch up in distaste. “What  _ us _ ?”

“We are soulmates, Caleb,” Lucien says with finality, still standing and looking down on Caleb where he sits. “I don’t know what it’ll take for us to see eye to eye, but it’s what I want. Surely you don’t enjoy being at each other’s throats like this.”

“I don’t enjoy it,” Caleb agrees. “But it isn’t as simple as just  _ saying _ we should reconcile.”

“Do you not want to?”

He bites his lip. Lucien makes it sound as if all it takes is an agreement for them to come to an understanding, as if they aren’t both held down by their respective pasts and current situations.

Today, Lucien disappeared to meet with Cree. Surely the two of them spoke of their order, the cult they’re reassembling to thwart the clammy hands of death that have scraped Lucien’s cheeks twice now. Mortality has never been an issue for Caleb who has always been without motive or religion, but he can’t pretend it wasn’t important to the man he knew who died.

He shouldn’t be made to feel guilty for holding onto the lessons he was taught by the first person in his life to matter in decades.

“Is it just because we’re soulmates?” Caleb finally asks, and he sees Lucien inhale deeply with the urge to sigh.

“I can’t say it’s insignificant. Soulmates are predetermined to lead us to each other, to tie people together regardless of the odds or our own stupidity,” Lucien explains. “So even if we fight and argue, we have a reason to continue; it’s already been written in the stars that our union will be a thing of beauty and grace, no?”

It isn’t poor logic, and some might even say Lucien’s views are rather progressive as far as soulmate traditions go. Rather than simply being locked together for eternity, the idea that fated pairs are as they are to act as incentive is far more comforting to Caleb. But it still isn’t enough; he saw the look in Lucien’s eyes when they spoke fondly that one day. He saw the satisfaction, the relief in his eyes as they spoke of their soulmates, of Caleb, and it had made Caleb afraid.

“I’m afraid you don’t see me for who I am beyond a soulmate, even now,” Caleb says, standing from the bed. He tries not to meet Lucien’s eyes as he takes a step towards the door. “I don’t want to talk about these things until you acknowledge me.”

Before he can even make it to the doorway, Lucien stomps in front of him, crowding Caleb’s space until his back hits the wall and Lucien’s hand slams into the wood beside his head. The various spellcasting components and books on the shelves rattle with the force.

“Because you’ve paid me the same respect, haven’t you?” Lucien snarls, and as he shoves his face down to meet Caleb’s downcast eyes, the wizard strains his head as far to the side as he can to avoid him. He can feel both their hearts beating wildly in his chest, both out of tune, manic and thunderous. It’s a horrendous cacophony that only escalates his anxiety, as if Lucien invading his space like this so maliciously wasn’t enough. “Because you’ve awarded me the dignity of being acknowledged as my own person, right?”

“It’s because you do things like this,” Caleb whispers, unable to make his voice louder.

Lucien’s mouth opens, his lips curled back in a snarl, but nothing comes out. Caleb only has to meet his eye for moment to see the sudden conflict, as if he’s only just now acknowledging his actions. Lucien lets out a dramatic sigh before throwing his hands up and turning his back to walk to the other end of the room. Caleb takes the opportunity to not leave the room, but return to the bed he was just sitting on. It feels as if he’ll pass out if he stands for a moment longer, the confrontation with such a familiar face wearing thin on his conscience. The dysphoria of interacting with Lucien for so long is enough to make him nauseated.

In the corner of the room, Lucien runs a hand through his hair and shakes it about in a gesture Caleb can remember Mollymauk doing during battle. Even the way he lowers and covers his face, one hand on a cocked hip that implies dignity in spite of anxiety and insecurity… he reeks of a man whose scent only exists in Caleb’s memory. All of this would be fixed if Caleb just resigned himself to adding Lucien to the grey, to not thinking and just reaching out, to cutting off his rationality. Maybe a life pretending wouldn’t be so bad.

“Do you believe two souls can fit inside of the same body?”

The question comes unprompted, and Caleb looks up in surprise to see Lucien facing him again. “No, of course not, that--”

“Then why am I such a mystery to you?” He interrupts. Lucien takes a deep, calming breath before his expression relaxes and he begins approaching Caleb again. “Why is it so difficult to believe that I am him, and he is me. We’ve always been the same. I have always been Mollymauk, and he has always been Lucien.”

Even as Lucien crouches down in front of his spot on the bed, three feet away, Caleb starts scooting back into the wall farther away. He doesn’t bother listening to half of Lucien says, immediately shutting his words out and shaking his head adamantly. “No, no, don’t start--That’s where you’re wrong.” Once he starts, it’s more difficult to stop, and the anxiety that made him nearly pass out moments ago now acts as fuel for his mad rambling. “Molly was--Molly had nothing to his name, had not even a  _ name  _ to his name. All he had was himself and the fearless conviction that he  _ was  _ himself, not never you-- _ never _ you!”

“What does he have that I don’t?” Lucien counters and raises his voice in turn despite being on the floor. “What could that shell of what I am not possibly provide that I, an entire _ fully realized person _ , cannot? Mollymauk was no person, he wasn’t anything but a shadow of me!”

“He was more of a person than you could ever be,” Caleb hisses through gritted teeth.

“And why is that?”

He lurches up in a growl, good manners and anxiety be damned. Caleb comes to his feet with the slightest stumble that’s corrected with the stomping of his feet. The shelves rattle once more. “Because he  _ died _ ! Because we buried him, because I spread soot across his cold, smiling face! We might as well have killed him ourselves, and he accepted that death without so much as a frown and you--you are nothing more than a  _ coward _ running from the very thing that makes us  _ alive _ !”

Caleb’s head falls, hanging between his shoulders in despondence. Sometimes it feels like arguing with Lucien is no more productive than reading scripture to a wall. The man is so set in his beliefs, so sure of himself and his mission that nothing could ever convince him otherwise. And to try and convince him of the worth of this other self, this person he could have been if he could drop everything and live truly, live freely… No, it would never happen.

This is the reality of the situation they’re in. All of these fights, all these arguments and screaming matches they have are all Caleb has been left with. The fates delivered him this cruel final gift to disrupt his mourning, and all he can do is pretend to cope and make do with where they are when he vehemently rejects even the prospect of accepting this man into his life. Lucien could never be a background character, some stranger who lives peacefully outside his field of vision. Just his mere existence alone, regardless where it is and whether or not it’s with Caleb is enough to make him retch.

Lucien’s voice comes out slowly, restraining anger as he comes to stand to his full height. “Is that it, mister Caleb? Is  _ this _ what would make you happy?” 

There are still traces of anger on Caleb’s face as he lifts his head back up to look at Lucien, though they disappear the moment they see the dagger being held to his purple throat. It’s the same blade they’d left with Mollymauk’s body a year ago. 

He continues speaking as if it’s nothing. “If I were to die, would I finally be as ‘ _ good _ ’ or ‘ _ worthy’ _ as my doppelganger? If I were to press this blade deeper--”

As he speaks, Lucien holds the sword closer to his throat, piercing the skin and allowing the blood to drip. It’s different from all the times Mollymauk would activate his swords, never threatening a vital region before. Caleb couldn’t respond if he wanted to, too horrified by the sight of red staining the white shirt over Mollymauk’s chest not for the first time.

He watches Lucien’s grip on the blade tighten, and before he can cut deeper, Caleb launches forward. “ _ Don’t _ !” he shouts, frantically trying to rip the blade from his hand. In their frenzy, his fingers are useless, scrambling for purchase on Lucien’s fist that he cannot grasp. He claws at the back of his knuckles, holding Lucien’s hand along with the blade he still holds close to his face. Caleb presses his forehead to the back of his hand and digs his nails into the tattooed skin there. “No, you…”

“It would seem you are a hypocrite, Caleb,” Lucien says, voice quieter and stiff. “You praise Mollymauk for his heroic end, for the singular death that made him more whole than I, and yet you cannot stand to see harm done to the vessel that once housed him. To confront the finale, the true end for him once more.”

Caleb openly sobs against his hand, fully aware of everything that spills out of his mouth. Of course he knows this about himself, of course he’s all too familiar with his own many flaws. This is but one strand of hair pulled from his head, one from many that he houses in the prison of his mind he holds himself captive in. But he can’t help but indulge in his own weaknesses and hold the rough hand in his even tighter, as if Mollymauk’s life were still in danger.

Lucien continues. “ _ You _ are truly weak, weaker than the both of us. I refuse to let myself fall to the clutches of death, and you refuse to let a dead man go. You speak so highly of death and its purpose in our lives, and yet you haven’t truly accepted it, have you?”

“How could I?” Caleb says weakly, voice trembling. “For years, I existed, only ever surviving, waiting for a soulmate who left me behind, truly alone in this world, and Mollymauk… he taught me what it could be like to live, to be happy and appreciate the world for what it was. With him around, the world seemed so much brighter, and I believed I could become a… a good person. Soulmates didn’t matter, my past didn’t matter, and I thought I could begin to move on... Tell me, how can I accept a grey world when I have been shown its colors once before? How can I be forced to live in a world where he is not? How could I accept a man who is dead when he haunts my dreams, when I am confronted with his face every single day?”

Lucien is silent.

Caleb lets go of his hand.

“After Mollymauk died… we scrambled to find any way to revive him, searched desperately for someone with enough power to return him to us. The others gave up eventually, resigned themselves to a funeral and a drink in a far off city without a body. But I never could. I never stopped searching, even after all this time, thinking ‘oh, maybe this is it’ and for you to show up one day… it’s cruel, isn’t it? How is a man supposed to remain sane enough to hold onto his own faith and values when the one he loves returns to his doorstep after being buried beneath the earth for six years? At least a hypocrite has values to betray.”

He remains a crumpled mess on the ground, face buried in his hands as his body continues to wrack with quiet sobs. Caleb had never joined the others for Molly’s funeral, had told them that the parting at Shady Creek Run was more than enough. They’d all known he was lying, but who could refute the man who mourned the most?

Lucien crouches before him. He only hesitates for a moment before setting his blade on the floor. It isn’t that Caleb relents to Lucien or is too tired to put up a fight, but when Lucien slowly moves to envelop him into his arms, Caleb immediately latches onto him. His hands hands clawing desperately at the shirt on his back and Lucien keeps one hand firmly placed int he small of Caleb’s back to keep him held close. They don’t say anything else in a room that has now been cast in silence where words are not only unneeded but unheard of. It’s for the best that Caleb’s voice be occupied with his hiccups and tears, as they both know exactly whose name would be on his lips otherwise. Who Caleb is trying to smell when he breathes his neck in deeply, whose pulse he is trying to feel with his ear on his chest.

They hold onto each other for different reasons, neither willing to let go first. Caleb doesn't bother trying to decipher what Lucien may be getting for himself by indulging in Caleb's weak will. Maybe it's as simple as the warmth between their bodies, or the natural calm that comes with being near their fated. It isn't something he would ever think to ask, nor does he want to know any answer beyond the gentle fingers that rub circles into his back or the leisurely sighs that cascade soft over his neck. Lucien's mere breath is a language that contains all these answers that Caleb could understand if he so much as tried, perhaps even with the assistance of a spell to comprehend languages, but the foreign 

words of warm air are comforting as they are. When the morning comes, there isn’t any telling who it had been that finally parted and left in the night.  They don’t speak of it, and it’s never brought up again, along with many of the words shared prior that night. 

When dawn breaks, Caleb does not love Lucien, Mollymauk is still dead, and the distance between their hearts has only grown greater despite beating in tandem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it goes up from here, promise. this is the last big fight for a while

**Author's Note:**

> i'm always on tumblr [@ludella](ludella.tumblr.com) and love hanging out and talking. i frequently take requests and so on too o/


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